Ties that bind
by Harriet Vane
Summary: Zoë and Wash get pregnant, Kaylee gets to visit with her family, Simon and River get kidnapped and oh so much more! A story about what makes up a loving family
1. Prolog

Author's Note: Hello All! Just to warn you all that this is just the first scene in a very, very, ridiculously long story. I know most of my stories are pretty long, but we're talking novel length here, so I don't want anyone jumping in and expecting quick read. Also, all the poems are original and (as far as I know) they are all technically Sonnets. (I add this not so much because I think you'll actually care, but because I like to brag.) Oh, and if anyone feels the need to see a disclaimer you can put the standardish one here ________________________________________ Thanks -- Harrie

"And the frog jumps and they get him and they grind him up and the bird sings and you can't hear it because all you can see is the blood, the bloody frog and the sunny day is ruined!" River said passionately.

"It's all right, River," Simon tried to calm her. "It's ok."

"It's not OK!" the girl practically screamed. "The frog!"

"Just take a deep breath," Simon said, reaching out to her gently. "We'll get you a nice cup of tea and . . 

"You're not listening to me!" River said, batting his hands away. "He gets hacked up, chopped to little bloody frog-bits. You have to listen!"

Simon sighed and closed his eyes. He loved her so much. How come taking care of her was so hard? It didn't make sense. "River," he finally said, opening his eyes and looking at her. "I know what you're saying means something very important to you," he said. "But I don't understand it."

"The bird sang," River began very slowly, enunciating each word precisely so that Simon would have no trouble understanding.

"No," he sighed, "No, I just . . . to me your thoughts seem random."

"Neuro-electric reactions often seem random because the average human mind is too simple to recognize its own thought patterns."

"Patterns," Simon muttered as what seemed like a brilliant idea blossomed in his head. "River, could you make what you're telling me a pattern?" he asked, his voice hedged with excitement. "Could you put it into a drawing, or an equation, or a poem or . . . or anything with some structure?"

"You want me to think in poems?"

"If you can," Simon said, trying to smile at his sister and not notice how her gaze kept darting across the room. "A formal structure could help me dissect what you're saying. I'll be able to tell what's important."

"You want me to think important things in poems?" She didn't seem daunted by the request, just confused.

"I want to understand you when you tell me things, mei mei," Simon said, reaching out for her again. This time she didn't bat him away. "Do you think you could . . .?"

The girl nodded, and then started muttering, 

__

"Cold water down the hill will run,

Over fine rocks and lumpy log

On this one here, basking in the sun,

Sits a fat green and gorgeous frog

Resting, he hopped there for the fun

With his friends in the mire and bog

They couldn't know, though, what'd be done.

The horrid act to which his hop was a prolog

'Cause the morning bird sang, rutting

Fool, and at his call the frog did jump

Into the bag, was marked for the gutting

There was nothing left but a red green lump

Once a noble frog, before the cutting

Killed him, so quick he never knew he'd left the stump."

For a moment, Simon started at his sister, utterly dumbfounded.

"Dose that help?" the girl asked.

Simon searched his mind for something to say.

"It's a poem, Simon," River said. "Do you understand now?"

Simon still had nothing to say.

To be continued . . .


	2. Chapter 1

WARNING:  I probably should have put this at the beginning, but, such is life.  This story spoils every episode of Fierfly, at least, I'm pretty sure I get every ep in there somehow.  It also spoils the French Novel, "Paul and Virginia" by Jacques-Henri Bernardin de Saint Pierre.  I didn't mean for that to happen but the damn book works its way so well into so many things.  Also, I love the status quo.  I fight for it, I honor it, I fix crappy endings of shows that were canceled to get it back.  I tell you this so you don't get any too attached to people who might change the status quo.  Thanks.  Harri

Chapter 1: In which Zoë gets a shock, Inara gets a client and Kaylee gets a nap

"I just feel weird, ya know?" Zoë tried to explain. "Like somethin's not quite right.  Wouldn't of come in 'cept . . ."

"Mal ordered you," Simon said knowingly as he put his stethoscope around his ears.

"Said we had a doc, might as well use him,"

"It's good to be useful," Simon muttered as he took he pressed the head of the instrument against her back.  "Take a deep breath."

She did.

"That sounds fine," he said, taking off his stethoscope and taking her wrist to check her pulse. "Do you think you're sick?"

"I donno," the woman said, shifting nervously in the examination chair. "Could they make this thing any more uncomfortable?"

"Yes," Simon answered her dryly, putting down her wrist. "Your pulse is fine.  What exactly are your symptoms?"

"Don't know that I got symptoms, exactly, I just feel, ya know, like somethin's off."

"Something's off," Simon said. "And could you identify that something at all?"

"Well," Zoë said. "I guess I been getting' a little light-headed sometimes."

"Light-headed?" Simon asked, "As in dizzy?"

"Just for a moment," Zoë amended. "Then it passes."

"How often has this happened?"

"Every now and then."

"Does that mean a few times in the last month, or in the last week or day?"

"Probably three or so times in as many days."

"So this has been going on for three days?"

"Somethin' like that."

"Ok," Simon said. "Have you hit your head at all recently?"

"Don't think so," Zoe said. "My head don't really hurt so much."

"Do other things hurt?"

"Well, I've been feelin' a little nauseous, ya know. Not so bad, but my stomach don't seem to want food in meals. I'd rather munch all day. And when I do eat a meal, get heartburn something awful."

"How long has this been going on?"

"I don't know, week or more."

"Anything else?"

"I've been really tired," Zoë said. "I can't wait ta get ta bed and I don't wanna get out in the mornin'. Drives Wash nuts."

"Uh-huh," Simon said. "So, nausea, heartburn, exhaustion, and dizziness. Anything else?"

"Don't think so." Zoë said nervously, she didn't like the way Simon was looking at her. She was sure he knew, or at least had a good guess, what was wrong with her. But he didn't seem like he wanted to tell her until he was absolutely sure. "Am I gonna make it, Doc?"

Simon smiled at her little joke, "I'm fairly sure you'll pull through," he said. "But I am going to have to take a sample of your blood to run some tests."

"Sure," Zoë said, as the doctor walked away from her to collect his medical equipment. "What you figure I got?"

"I really don't want to say, not yet. Your symptoms could be congruent with several different conditions." Simon said, as he put on a pair of sanitary gloves. "Also, a combination of multiple unrelated conditions could produce these symptoms, stress, a mild stomach virus, a sinus infection, lots of things."

"'Kay," Zoë said, taking a deep breath. She did not like how non-committal he was being. 

Simon walked back to her carrying a particularly small needle and what looked like a small, white square slip of paper. "I want to do a quick blood scan."

"That'll tell what's wrong with me?"

"It will defiantly narrow it down," he said, setting the needle and the slip down on the table next to the examination chair and picking up a disinfectant wipe. "I'll have to prick one of your fingers"

"I got ten," Zoë said, offering the doctor both her hands, fingers spread. "Prick any you like."

"All right," Simon said, taking her left hand and sanitizing the tip of the ring finger. "This should hurt for just a second," he said, still holding her left hand firmly with one hand as he brought the needle up. He poked her disinfected finger, and a drop of blood eked out. He put down the needle and started rubbing her finger, turning the small drop into a larger drop. After a second he picked up the wisp of paper and soaked up the drop of blood. He let go of her hand and offered her a small clip of bandage. "It'll stop bleeding any moment, but here, put that on the prick."

"Right," Zoë said, putting the small square of cloth over her not-really-bleeding fingertip. "What you testing me for anyways?"

"Ah, just wondering what I'll find," Simon said distractedly as he inserted the slip of paper in a small, flat rectangular, unassuming diagnostic computer. He pushed a selection on its screen before setting it back down on the counter.

"What'd it say?" Zoë asked nervously.

"This is going to take a few minutes," Simon said. "Ah, I don't mean to be impertinent but when did you have you're last menstrual cycle?"

"My period?" Zoë asked. "'Bout a week ago, why?"

"Was it unusually light?"

"Ah, yeah," Zoë said, a little unnerved, she was a very private person, she didn't like to talk to Wash about this kind of stuff, let alone the young doctor. "Crazy light. You know what's wrong, don't you?"

Simon opened his mouth to answer her but before he could a word out his diagnostic pad chirped. "Hold that thought," he told her as he hurried over to the counter and took an almost intolerably long time reading over whatever information about her blood the little computer had spit out. When he finally put the thing down he had a very odd expression on his face, like he was trying hard not to smile.

"Congratulations, Zoë. You're going to be a mother."

* * *

"Hey Cap'n," Kaylee said, poking her head into the cockpit. "How's it goin'?"

"If you want ta know if I know what Simon found wrong with Zoë, I ain't been told," Mal said, looking at the young mechanic over his shoulder. "Don' you got work ta do?"

Kaylee's bright eyes drifted to the floor as she nodded. She almost looked like she was going to cry. 

"Well," Mal said, clearing his throat as he glanced away from her. "Best to it then."

"Yes sir," the girl said softly. Mal thought his heart would break, hearing his young mechanic's usually bubbly voice dragged down as it was. He almost, almost, lost his resolve and spilled his secret. But in his past, Malcolm Reynolds had been a Sargent on the losing side of the bloodiest battle in recent memory and he'd kept his sanity through sheer force of will. In his present, he keep his small crew together, and safe, and in work, with little more than sheer force of will. He had a lot of will and he was convinced that the pleasure of Kaylee's joy-to-come was well worth any small sorrows she felt now.

He heard and saw in the dim reflection off the windows, Kaylee turn and start heading back to the engine room. But before she even left the cockpit she turned again. "Cap, you mad at me?" She asked, her voice trembled a little. She was going to cry. Mal wouldn't be able to keep his secret if Kaylee started crying. That would bee too much.

"No," he said casually. "I ain't mad. Jus' as I understand it, there's a goodly amount a stuff ta do."

"Not so much," Kaylee said meekly. 

"You lookin' for a job, little Kaylee?" Mal asked, swiveling the chair so he could look at her. His intent had been to put her at her ease. She'd be suspicious of something if he didn't look at her, but now he had to see how weepy she really was. It made him feel a little weepy, but, thankfully, weepyness was an feeling he could ignore.

"Ya got me workin' all the time," Kaylee said. Big fat tears were starting to roll down her dirty face, creating streaks that looked almost clean. "Can't help but think I'm bein' punished for somethin'."

"Ya ain't," Mal started. In his mind he was chanting '_don't tell, don't tell, don't tell.'_

His mechanic's feelings of alienation were quickly turning to feelings of anger, which was good for Mal, he could handle that better. She took a step towards him. "Ain't fair!" she said forcefully. "Ta suddenly treat someone all _ke__ bo**[i]** with out tellin' them why."_

"Kaylee," Mal said, standing up. "I didn't mean ta treat ya meanly."

"Well ya sure ain't doin' it on accident. Been four whole days, since the job on Paxton and ya ain't said a thing ta me except for 'get ta work, Kaylee'," she said, impersonating him comically. "Or 'Kaylee, there's work needs doin''."

"Didn't mean ta work ya so hard," Mal said, holding his hands in front of him as a symbol of surrender. "If ya like take the rest of the day off. Fact, ya don't have ta come anywhere near anything mechanical fer the rest of the trip. Well, barring life threatenin' brokeness a the ship."

"Rest of the trip?" Kaylee asked. "Where we goin' Cap'n?"

"No reason to worry your pretty little head over that," Mal said.  "You look sleepy."

"I could use a nap," she mused. "Was up all night tryin' ta re-aline the converters, but still . . ."

"Then it's settled," Mal said, grabbing her kindly by the shoulders and swinging her around.  "Time fer all good little mechanics to go ta bed."

"Can't help but think this is jus' you givin' me another unfair order," Kaylee said, not resisting his guidance for a second.  

"You can think that all ya want," Mal said.  "So long as you go to bed."

"Don't order anyone else ta bed," Kaylee grumbled.  "Ya never ordered Zoë ta bed."

"I have, matter a fact, on her weddin' night, but that was a slightly different situation."

                "There's somethin' you want me too busy to think 'bout," Kaylee said, displaying more keenness than her exhausted state should have produced.  

"And here we are," Mal said, a little louder and more eagerly than was necessary, as they reached Kaylee's room. He pushed the door open for her. "Time for bed."

"Ya know, ya can't just send me off ta bed like I'm a kid or somethin'," Kaylee said.

"Kaylee, ta bed or back to the engine room," Mal said, clearly not joking. "That's a directive from your captain."

The girl sighed and looked at him spitefully. "Night Cap'n," She said, grabbing the top rail of her hatch and swinging onto the ladder with the most defiant a pose she could maintain considering she was following orders.

"Night, Little Kaylee," Mal said, leaning over her hatch, which snapped firmly shut in his face. It wasn't quite like she slammed the door, but it wasn't far off. Mal sighed and started heading back to the cockpit, "Hope you wake up in a better mood."

* * *

"No," Wash said, almost frantically. "You're wrong. Do the test again."

"I've done it three times," Simon said defensively. "I don't think her blood chemistry is going to change."

"But she . . ." Wash stuttered, "she takes the pills--the little pills in the circle thing that make it so she doesn't have a baby."

"A baby," Zoë muttered to herself. She was still sitting in the examination chair, and it didn't look like she was going to be moving out of it for quite some time. The news had been unexpected, and, after he convinced her that his diagnosis was accurate, she'd slipped into a mild state of shock. She was staring into nothing, trying to come to grips with the fact that, in less than nine months, she'd be a mother. She'd done little more than grunt when Simon asked if she wanted Wash, and she'd not protested when the doctor told her he was going to share the joyous news with her husband because she didn't look up to it. 

"Where did you get the pills?" Simon asked.

"I don't know," Wash said, his voice squeaking a little. "At a place where they have pills."

"I take it they weren't prescribed to you by a doctor."

"I don't know," Wash said again. "That was Zoë's job. They were Zoë's pills."

"Most medications on the border worlds are, for lack of a better expression, watered down somehow," Simon sighed. "I suppose birth control is no exception. It just never occurred to me that you could . . . I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Wash asked. "Why are you sorry?"

"Well," Simon said, taking a deep breath. "You don't want to have a baby and now you do. I suppose I could perform an abortion, but, considering how ineffective the birth control pills you were given were, I'd hesitate to trust any shot we could procure on a border planet, and I don't know when --"

"No!" Zoë said sharply, sitting up. "No."

"Hon," Wash said, walking quickly over to her and slipping his hand in hers. "Are you all right?"

"You're not going to abort my baby," Zoë said firmly. Then, as what she just said sunk in, she smiled. "My baby."

"I thought we didn't want a baby," Wash said. "I thought we agreed that a ship like this was no place for kids."

Zoë nodded and looked at her husband, her expression glowing. "Don't matter what we said before. You're gonna be a daddy." She laughed, "You'll be such a good daddy."

"Well, then," Simon said as he backed out of the infirmary.  "If you're all right Zoë, I think I'll leave you two alone."

"We'll be just fine, Doc," Zoë assured him.

"Zo, are you sure you don't need . . ." Wash started.

"The three of us are gonna be just fine," Zoë asserted.

"Well, then," Wash said, pushing a smile through his worry. "I guess then we'll be just fine."

* * *

"The Companion's Guild of Newhope welcomes you," a very polite recording told Inara. The companion sighed and waited. "If you could please enter your Guild identification number." 

Inara punched the number in quickly. 

"Welcome Ms. Inara Serra," the recording said disjointedly. "Please enter the working nights you will be on Newhope." 

Inara entered that number in quickly as well. 

"Processing."  The recording said.

"Processing," River's soft voice said from the doorway. She sounded amused. "They process food, they process people. It's a process, it goes and goes and goes."

"River, dear," Inara said as sweetly as she could. "Do you need something?"

"You're being processed," River laughed softly, and then, the joke had suddenly ceased to be funny. "Everybody gets processed," she said very seriously. "They line us up, and they stamp us, and they throw away the bad, the very bad ones, and they lie about the ones that are only a little bad so no one will notice, and they keep the good ones for themselves, they don't sell those. No, they keep the good ones."

"River," Inara said tentatively. "Do you want me to find Simon for you?"

The girl looked up at the companion and laughed, the joke was funny again. "You're in the middle of the process. You have to finish. He's done with his process, but now Zoë and Wash have to process some things," she looked at Inara candidly. "If you don't process things correctly it's unhealthy," the girl asserted, before turning around and slipping out of the door.

"I suppose so," Inara said softly, turning back to her screen, which was flashing 'processing complete.' There were several faces on her screen. Inara stared at the pictures for a moment and tried to see the emotions behind these men's eyes. There was a fairly handsome man, no more than thirty years old, who looked like a thrill-seeker. There was a boy, hardly over eighteen, who looked very eager. There was a comfortably plump man in his early fifties who looked like he wanted a solution to some mid-life crises. There was a creepy man, in his late twenties, who looked like he wanted to do something he felt he had to pay for, and a distinguished man in his mid-forties who gave the impression of a sort of connoisseur. But the photo that most captured Inara's interest was that of an older man, in his late sixties, who looked very kindly and, at the same time, very sad. For reasons that she couldn't vocalize, she selected to hear his application first.

"I realize that most engage a companion to enjoy sexual pleasures," the man said very frankly. "But that is not my purpose. I have a seventeen-year-old granddaughter who is planing to go to the core upon her eighteenth birthday to be introduced into polite society. Her mother and father died when she was still a babe, and her grandmother, my sweet wife, when she was very young, so I have raised her by myself. I feel that, before she goes into such a demanding social world I would like her to have some sort of guidance from a lady. She is young, nieve, and quite desperately needs to see a bit of true femininity. Unusual as this request is, Madam Inara, I beg you to see it as a challenge to your true skills, not as a request of a nanny or babysitter. I eagerly await you're reply, Reginald Comworth."

"Reginald Comworth," Inara said softly. "What an intriguing offer."

Ten minutes later, when she walked out of her shuttle, having been engaged for five of the seven days they would be on Newhope to coach Mr. Comworth's grand daughter in social graces, River was standing outside of her door, smiling in a disturbingly knowing way. "Processing spoils the freshness." 

"River," Inara said kindly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well, then," the girl said. "You're gonna have a long process."

To be Continued . . .

  


* * *


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: In which the table is set in more ways than one

                "So," Mal asked as he set a plate down on the table.  "What's wrong with her?"

                "Zoë?" Simon said, from the other side of the table where he was folding the napkins.  "Nothing."

                "So she ain't sick?"  Mal said, steeping to the right to put down another plate, as Simon stepped to the right to put down another napkin.  The captain had told himself very firmly that he wasn't going worry about it, because it would have been wasted energy.  Still, he was shocked by how utterly relieved he was to hear Simon's simple, confident, diagnosis.

                "No," he said, "she's in perfect health."

                "Then what caused her symptoms?" Book said as he brought the large bowl of rice that was going to make up the majority of the night's meal to the table.  "I can't believe that Zoë would have any hypochondriac tendencies."

                "She's not," Simon said.  "I mean, she doesn't.  But, I, ah, I really shouldn't be talking about this."

                "'Bout what, Zoë's health?"

                Simon nodded, as if the answer had been painfully obvious.

                "Why not?" Mal asked. 

Simon sighed, "Doctor-patient confidentiality is not only necessary for a trusting rela--."

                "Ah, shut the text book, Doc.  I'm Zoë's captain and Book here's her preacher.  If we ain't got a right ta know 'bout her health . . ."

                "You don't," Simon insisted.  "And I'm not going to tell you anything."

                "You told us she was all right," Mal pointed out.

                "My mistake," Simon said, putting down the last napkin.  "And I've leaned my lesson. Next time I'll be more discreet."  

                Mal looked like going to set into the young doctor and explain some things about a captain's authority but, fortunately for Simon, at that moment a yawning Kaylee entered the kitchen.  "Hello, Kaylee," Simon said quickly to draw Mal's attention from him to her.

                "Hey-ya, Simon," Kaylee said, a thick slur of drowsiness in her voice.  "What's cookin'? Smell's good."

                "Good morning, sweetheart," Book said, turning to the young mechanic.  "How was your nap?"

                "All right, I guess," Kaylee yawned.  "Think I'm more tired now than I was 'fore.  Kin ya hand me a glass, preacher?"

                "Don't suppose ya feel more cheerful," Mal said hopefully.  "Less grumpy?"

                "With or without a nap," Kaylee snapped, glaring over her shoulder at Mal, "you were still mean."

                "You were mean?" Simon said, turning to the captain.  He looked absolutely horrified.  "What did you do?"

                "Nothin'!" Mal said defensively.  "Thoughtless, maybe, ok, but mean . . .?"

                "You were mean," Kaylee said solidly as she poured herself a glass of water.

                Mal looked around, hoping to find support with the men in the room.  The looks on the shepherd and the doctor's faces convinced him very quickly that he was in the wrong room for that.  "Fine," Mal said.  "If I 'pologize can we make some peace?"

                "Oh, there's plenty of peace, Cap'n," Kaylee said.  "I ain't gonna make a ruckus."

                "What are you gonna do?" Mal said warily.

                The girl shrugged innocently.

                "Kaylee," Mal said.  "I'm really, really sorry.  I got my reason's fer bein' mean.  An' your right, I was mean."

                "I'd like to hear those reasons," Book said.

                "You'll all hear 'em," Mal said.  "Jus' not right away."

                Kaylee sighed and looked away.  Mal could feel Simon and Book's judgmental stares.  

                "Look," Mal said firmly.  "I'm the captain and that means I don't gotta explain anything I chose to do ta any of you.  Now, if I was a little mean with Kaylee, I had my reasons, which I don't have ta explain.  I've apologized and I think it'd be nice, be _Christian, fer ya'll ta forgive me.  Which brings up another point, I weren't mean ta you gents so I'd appreciate it if only one person in this room were mad at me."  There was a very uncomfortable silence.  "And I think she ought'a find it in her heart ta let go a this little episode."_

                Kaylee sighed and nodded, clearly not meaning it.

                "I guess that'll have ta do," Mal said.  "Time we got supper on the table.  Doc, Zoë and Wash comin' ta supper?"

                "I would assume so," Simon said.  "They didn't really discuss their dinner plans with me."

                "And even if they did you wouldn't be able ta tell me," Mal sighed.  "Well, their places are set so if they don't show, they don't show."

                "Why don't you sit down," Simon offered, pulling out a chair for Kaylee.

                "I ought'a . . ." the girl started.

                "I can do it," Simon said.  "You look tired."

                "Well, thank you, Simon," Kaylee said, smiling up at the doctor before turning very pointedly towards Mal.  "That's real polite."

                Mal sighed and turned away.

                Ten minutes later the table was set and everyone, with the exception of Wash and Zoë, were seated around it.  It was 18:00, time to eat.  But there was a sort of empty pause as everyone waited for either the firstmate or the pilot to come in and, at very least, explain that they wouldn't be eating with the crew.  It felt all wrong, to start without them, but it also felt a little silly to wait for them.

                "Maybe I should go check on Zoë," Simon volunteered, "See if she's coming up."

                There was a weighty pause.  

                "If she comes, she comes," Mal finally said.  "We can start without her."

                Jayne reached for the bowl of rice.

                "'Course," Mal said, glancing at the mercenary in a way that made him slowly draw his hand back.  "Might not be such a bad idea.  You sure she's all right?"

                "She should be fine," Simon said, pushing himself away from the table.  "Maybe they just lost track of time."

                "We'll wait on ya, Doc," Mal said, as the boy hurried past him.

                "Aw, Mal, do we have'ta?" Jayne grumbled none-to-softly.

                "Yes," Mal said.  "We do."  

                Simon had just reached the steps leading to the door which would take him to the hallway and downstairs to the infirmary, when he stopped short.  "Oh," he said, taking a step back to clear the way for Zoë and Wash.  "There you are."

                "Weren't waitin' on us, were you?" Zoë asked as she, Wash and Simon took their seats.  Mal couldn't help but notice that his firstmate's poker face was more than unusually red around the cheeks and bright around the eyes.  Wash looked downright giddy, and seemed to find a way to be touching his wife no matter how she moved; once they were sitting, Mal was sure they were playing footsy.

                The food was passed around. Those who prayed silently did so, only slightly grating on their captain's nerves, and everyone started eating with an uncharacteristic quietness.  Everyone was dying to know what was going on with Zoë, whose sudden transformation from sickly to giddy was somewhat troubling, but no one quite had the gumption to out and out ask.

                "Is it just me," Wash finally said after a couple of tense minutes.  "Or is everyone unusually quiet tonight?"

                "You know what, hon, I think they are," Zoë said with a chuckle.

                "Ok, ok," Mal finally said.  "No need ta put on a little show.  Ya obviously got good news, we'd all appreciate it if ya'd share."

                "You wanna tell or should I?" Zoë asked her husband.  Her nose was crinkling in a joyous way that Mal had never seen before.

                "I want to," Wash said, "But it's really your news."

                "No," Zoë insisted.  "It's both of our news, you can tell . . ."

                "Somebody tell," Mal said, growing a little angry, "That's an order."

                "Yes, sir," Zoë said, taking a deep breath and becoming dry and professional again, although there was still a twinkle of joy in her eyes as she glanced around the table.  "Wash and I are pregnant."

                There was a heartbeat where everyone at the table, with the exception of Simon, starred at them in absolute shock, which was broken by Jayne's grunt, "You just said Wash was pregnant."

                "Ahhhh!" Kaylee screeched, jumping from her chair and barreling over to Zoë, who was quickly wrapped in a congratulatory hug.  "You're gonna have a baby! That's great!"

                Inara, who happened to be sitting next to Zoë, quickly joined in fawning over the firstmate.  "That's amazing news.  Congratulations."

                "Thank you," Zoë said, her professionalism gone, she was giddy again.  "Thanks."

                "We're you trying to . . .?" Inara asked

                "No," Zoë said.  "It just kinda happened."

                "But yer happy 'bout it, right?" Kaylee asked.  "Yer excited?"

                "It's a good thing I was in the infirmary," Wash explained to Book, Jayne and Mal, who listening eagerly.  "'Cause when Simon told me Zo was going to have a baby I nearly died of a heart attack."

                "This will be wonderful," Book said, "Having a child on this ship."

                "Right," Jayne grunted.  "Smelly diapers, cryin' in the middle of the night, not bein' able ta cuss, this'll be jus' wonderful."

                "I never really wanted a baby," Wash said, a little wonder in his voice.  "I mean, having Zoë was just so fantastic.  But soon she'll have a son or daughter; we'll have a son or daughter."  He looked up at his friends, "I can't even describe how wonderful this feels. It must be why some family's have twenty kids. I could totally have twenty kids if it feels like this every time."

                "Just wait 'till the cryin' and the diapers, like Jayne says," Mal said good-naturedly.  "Then we'll see how you feel about prolific offspring."

                "A baby," River said softly.  She, like Simon, was watching the others congratulate.  Simon had already offered his felicitations and River couldn't quite figure out what would be right to say.

                "That's right," Simon said with some confidence.  "A baby."

                "It'll cry and spit up."

                "That's pretty much what babies do."

                "And its mommy will love it and rock it and sing to it."

                "Yeah, I think Zoë probably will."

                "And its daddy will bounce it on his knee and tell it scary bedtime stories."

                "Yeah," Simon said, turning away from his thrilled shipmates towards his sister.  "What are you thinking, _mei__ mei?"_

There was an odd smile that spread across River's face, the kind of smile she barely every had.  It was hopeful, encouraged, and a little expectant.  She looked like she was about to laugh and cry from sheer joy. 

"_Soon the smell of baby powder   
And the sent of curdled milk,_

_Fragrance like a pungent flower_

_To our hearts the same in ilk,_

_Will descend, like spring's fresh shower_

_Of the rain which does not bilk_

_Its joy; nor should we gathered cower_

_From this babe, with skin like silk.___

_I would not shrug, no, not a day_

_Which I could spend with what may be:_

_Unique, unknown, new DNA_

_Beloved, hopeful progeny,_

_Of one gay nights roll in the hay:_

_The ships first own, our loved baby"_

                Simon stared at her, dumbfounded for a second.  Finally he managed to say, "Was, was that a sonnet?"

                The girl nodded, "It's for the baby."

                "Did, did you just come up with that?  Just . . . compose it?"

                River nodded again, she still had the silly, youthful, smile on her face.  "Do you think I should tell Zoë?"

                "Ah, no," Simon said quickly.  

She looked at him critically, almost hurt.  She didn't say it, but he knew she wanted to know why not.

"It's a very nice poem, River," Simon said.  "I know Zoë will appreciate it, ah, you just might want to consider reworking the sextuplet first."

                She stared at him blankly a second before nodding.  "The meter's off."

                "That's not what I . . ." Simon started, before deciding that it would probably be better to just agree with her.  "Yeah."

                "I'll think about it," The girl promised.

FRIDAY

                "All crew report to the cargo bay," Mal's voice boomed, echoing through the cargo bay where most of the crew was already assembled.  Jayne and Book were in the twelfth round of a knockdown, drag-out, horseshoe tournament.  Simon and Kaylee were perched on the catwalks, their legs hanging over the edge, watching.  Inara and Zoë, under the pretense of watching, were sitting on some of the large crates talking, and, a couple of yards away, River was hovering, like she had been ever since Zoë made her announcement, beaming at the firstmate.

                "Doesn't it drive you nuts?" Inara asked quietly, so that River couldn't hear over Jayne's loud gloating as he landed the perfect toss.  

                "Not so much," Zoë said with a shrug.  "She stays outta the way, she's quiet, and it's better this than her rantin' and screamin'."

                "I suppose," Inara said.  "I'd just wonder about what's going on in her head."

                "That's somethin' I'm sure we'll never know," Zoë laughed.  "But look at her face, can't be harmful," Zoë said, turning to smile at River, who smiled bashfully yet eagerly back.  "She's just excited 'bout the baby.  So long as she stay's out from under foot there ain't no harm."

                "What about when you go out on a deal?"

                Zoë grunted, "I ain't gonna go out on no deal, not for nine months."

                "And you're all right with that?" Inara asked, amazed.

                "That's the way it is," Zoë said with a shrug.  "Between Cap'n worrin' and Wash worrin', just ain't worth it.  Now, when my nine months are up, well, then we might have us a little ruckus to determine who goes out on deals and who stays on the ship." 

                Inara laughed.

                "But for nine months' I'm ship bound," Zoë continued. "Don't think I'll mind the company most times."

                "She can be a very sweet girl . . ." Inara said, letting her sentence trail off.

                "I talked ta Simon 'bout it, he said that he thought the baby gave her hope," Zoë said, an almost uncharacteristic sentiment in her voice and eyes.  "Ya know, the poor girl's seen so much, got next ta nothin' ta look to in the future. But this baby, it gave her hope.  I just  . . . I just don't wanna be selfish about it, ya know.  This ship, _Serenity, for better or for worse, it's all our home and we're all kinda family.  Can't help but feel sorta like it's everyone's baby.  Even River's."_

                "I doubt you'll feel that way after twelve hours of labor," Inara said.  "By then you'll feel you've earned exclusive rights."

                "After bein' saddled with the kid fer nine months I think I'll be eager fer some time away."

                "So, are you hoping to groom River to be a sort of nanny."

                "I ain't doin' anything," Zoë said, trying to hide how frightened she was at the idea of the girl who'd coolly sliced Jayne across the chest with a carving knife holding her baby.  Zoë had to admit to herself that River was fine hovering around as long as that's all she did: hover, be a pretty little specter on the edges of her peripheral vision.  The prospect of more than that was slightly disturbing.  "In nine month's we'll see," Zoë finally said.  "But right now, I ain't gonna chase her away when she's done nothin' wrong."

                "Well," Inara mused, "For now at least you're making her very happy."

                "An' that's good," Zoë said.  "Everybody deserves their share a happy."

                The conversation on the catwalk was remarkably similar.  
                "She's real pretty when she smiles," Kaylee said, gazing at River.  

                "I know," Simon sighed.  "It's nice to see it again.  I just . . . I hope that she knows enough to be cautious."

                "Wa'da'ya mean?" Kaylee asked.

                "She's so enamored with the idea of a baby on the ship, a new life, _tabula__ rasa."_

                "Tabula-whosa?"

                "It means a clean slate, a fresh start," Simon explained.  "I'm just afraid eventually Zoë's going to get sick of having River hovering over her."

"Well," Kaylee offered.  "River ain't botherin' nobody."

"Not yet," Simon sighed.  "But she can be so unstable.  I know she wouldn't do anything to hurt Zoë or the baby, but if Wash were to, quite reasonably, ask her to _zou__ kai . . ."_

                "I'm sure it'll all work out jus' fine," Kaylee said, grabbing Simon's hand and squeezing it affectionately.  "A baby's a blessin' and my grandma said nothin' bad come's of blessin's."

                Simon looked at Kaylee skeptically, but he didn't dare nay-say her grandmother's words of wisdom.

                "Ya never know, maybe It'll turn out she's great with kids and can take care of the baby while Zoë goes out on a job."

"I'm, ah, I'm not sure . . . I don't think she even really seen a baby before."

"Naw," Kaylee asked, amazed.  "She'd of had to."

"I can't conceive where . . ."

"At a family gatherin' maybe?"

"No," Simon said, his eyes scanning the cargo bay ceiling as he thought, as if his sister's life experiences were painted there. "She was the youngest."

                "Well, yeah, but you had cousins."

"Two," Simon said.  "One, Jeanette, was my age and the other, Foster, was four years older then me."

"That was it?" Kaylee asked amazed.

"Come to think of it, Foster's wife was pregnant when I left.  They've probably had the baby by now.  Huh."

                "Ya couldn't of had just two cousins," Kaylee said, amazed.

                Simon's eyes drifted back down to her pretty face, "My father's sister never married and my mother's brothers had one child each."

                "So, you didn't have any cousins," Kaylee asked, her mind stuck on this fact.

                "I told you, I had two."

                "Might'as well be none," Kaylee said, rolling her eyes.

                "Why, how many cousins do you have?"

                "Ain't sure," the girl shrugged, "'Bout twenty four on my ma's side, I think, and . . ."

                "Twenty four?" Simon's voice cracked just a little.

                "Yun-huh," Kaylee nodded, not skipping a beat.  "An' then on my daddy's side I think there were . . ."

                "Hey, Little Kaylee," Mal interrupted as he bounded down the stairs.  "Thought' I told everyone to be in the cargo hold, ready ta get off."

                "We're gettin' off the ship?" Kaylee asked excitedly, forgetting about her countless cousins.  

                "That we are," Mal said, reaching down and offering a hand to help her up.  "I think we could all stand ta have dirt under our feet for a spell."

                "So," Simon said, pulling himself to his feet unassisted.  "When you say 'we could all' . . ."

                "You and yer sis included," Mal said.  "It's a nice little out of the way planet full a nice little people, no reason to fret."

                Simon nodded clearly still fretting, but willing to trust his captain's words.  

                "Hey!" Kaylee said, as if realizing something for the first time.  "Where are we setin' down? You ain't told us once what planet we were goin' to."

                "Well, you were too busy to much care," Mal said as the threesome plodded down the stairs, clinging to the banisters. The gravity of the planet was already kicking in and as Wash eased the ship down the whole crew felt just a little off kilter.  

                "Cap'n, You _hao__ zi!" Kaylee said, turning and slapping Mal on the arm hard enough to hurt.  "You had me do all that work so's I'd be too busy ta ask where we were headed."_

                "I am, at times, amazed at my own cleverness."

"Wow, Captain," Simon said, with a somewhat nervous respect in his voice, "That was quite the connivery."

                "You may think what you done was clever," Kaylee said lividly as she reached the deck and started heading towards the hatch.  "But you're gonna be sorry when I decide never ta talk to you again."

                "I have great faith in the weakness of those convictions," Mal told Simon quietly over his shoulder.  The doctor couldn't help but snicker.  
                "You laughin' at me?" Kaylee said, turning on the men with more fury in her expression than either man would have thought possible.  

                "No," Simon said very quickly, his mouth going dry.

                Mal, who knew what was going to happen as soon as the hatch hit the dirt, continued to chuckle.  Kaylee sent him a venomous glare so cold that he started to cough, had to clear his throat, and came out of it looking more or less contrite.

                There was a dull clunk as the hatch unlatched and a loud cranking as it started to lower.  It was loud enough to prevent any real communication, but Kaylee still managed to communicate her extreme displeasure.  It hung around her like a cloud, Mal and Simon didn't dare come close to her.

                The rest of the crew wandered slowly towards the opening of the hatch, taking in the fresh air as soon as it flowed in.  It was a sort of ritual for the crew to gather near the hatch when it opened.  Even on planets were Simon and River were not allowed off, the siblings would hover near the ships entry, breathing deeply of air that hadn't been sterilized, filtered and recycled. 

                Jayne and Book had quit their game.  The mercenary sucked in the air greedily while the preacher closed his eyes and took in deep measured breaths. Inara made a sort of contented sigh as she exhaled the first sweet breath. Wash slipped his hand in Zoë's as he slid next to her, their faces were very close, almost like they were taking the same first breath. River's tousled hair wisp back at the slight breeze, she was giggling, softly and seemed almost overcome with the simple pleasure.  Even Kaylee's foul mood lightened as the cool air hit her face.  As Mal looked around he mused that, if he ever had to describe joy, he'd probably say it was fresh air flowing through _Serenity._

                But what happened next would, perhaps, have been a better definition.  When the hatch was half down it became clear that, wherever the ship had landed, there was a mass of people waiting.  When the hatch was three-quarters of the way down, and the mass of people were clearly visible, Kaylee screeched.

                Although Mal couldn't see it, he knew Kaylee's bright face had a downright radiant, probably blinding smile on it.  She ran to the edge of the hatch before it hit the dirt, screaming all the way, although her voice was lost in the din as most of the assembled crowed called out her name. 

                "Ah, Captain?" Simon asked, clearly confused by the mechanic's reception.

                "It's her family," Mal said.  "Her home."

                "So that's why you kept her busy, preoccupied.  So this could be a surprise."

                "Yeah," Mal said warmly.  Kaylee'd just thrown herself into her father's arms.  Her mother was petting her hair and trying not to cry.  Nieces and nephews where pulling at her jumpsuit begging for their aunt's attention.  

                "I think she appreciates it," the doctor offered, his voice was warm too.

                "She's my girl," Mal sighed.  "Thing's I go through ta see that smile . . ."

                "It's worth it," Simon said.  Mal glanced back at the boy.  He was staring at Kaylee's warm reunion with an almost wistful expression.  Mal wondered if the boy wanted to be in Kaylee's place, welcomed back to his family with loving embraces, or if he'd rather take the place of the handsome young man who'd just kissed the pretty mechanic on the cheek.

                "On that point, Doctor, we are in perfect agreement."

To be Continued . . .


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: In which the Frye's are introduced and Simon can't stop River from doing anything.

                "Now Captain," Al Frye said very seriously, "You ain't been gettin' my daughter in any trouble, have ya?"

                "No trouble I couldn't get her outta again," Mal said.

                The older man laughed.  He was mostly bald, skinny and weathered; a man who'd lived a very full life at the relatively young age of fifty. He had thin, nimble fingers, tawny sun soaked-skin, and a face that had clearly spent more time smiling then frowning.  He was the kind of man who made it extremely difficult for anyone to dislike him.  His wife, Nora, matched him perfectly.  She was shorter and plumper than her husband, but she had the same sun-worn appearance and crow's feet from too many smiles around her eyes.  She had thick gray hair with a few tenacious brown streaks in it, and Kaylee's gorgeous brown eyes.

                They, that is to say, Kaylee's entire family, most of her friends, and the crew of _Serenity_, were walking through the small town of Sweet Well on Newhope.  It was a train-stop town of a little over three thousand people half way between the planet's capital city, unimaginatively named _Du__ Cheng, and its largest export, salt from vast valleys of salt mines to the south.  Its roots were in a large farming community, although there was a small copper mine that was getting bigger. Still, the best thing the town had going for it was the train. It was why Mal had decided to land in Sweet Well in the first place, years and years ago.  Whatever Sweet Well didn't have, they could get by train, but the Alliance big wigs in Du Cheng didn't care to bother with such an out-of-the-way city.  If you had to be planet bound, Mal thought so long ago, this was about the best place to do so, and he walked rather conspicuously down the street, followed by a large chunk of the community, he realized he still felt that way.  _

                "And she's been good, I take it?" Nora asked, drawing Mal out of his musings.

                "'Course I been good," Kaylee said, rolling her eyes lovingly at her mother.

                "Better'n gold," Mal assured the matron.  "Little Kaylee's never let me down."

                "And these jobs you do," Nora said, "They ain't too dangerous?"

                "Not overly," Mal said.  "Course, most work pay anything's got a little danger in it."

                "Don't have ta fret over me, ma," Kaylee said, slipping her arm around her mother's and giving it an affectionate squeeze.  "Cap takes good care of us.  He always will."

                "If I doubted that I wouldn't of let ya go off," Al grunted.  "It's a dangerous world, gotta take care of your own.  Gotta watch who ya trust."

                "Don't I know it," Mal replied.  "But if I can say so, I think _Serenity's_ got herself a mighty fine crew of reasonably trustworthy folk."

                "Reasonably trustworthy?" Nora asked.

                "Cap's just bein' modest," Kaylee said.  "_Serenity's_ got the best crew of any ship flyin'."

                "I wouldn't know that, sweetie," Nora said with a motherly sing-songy tone in her voice as she turned her head to look at the crew of _Serenity, who were following closely as they wondered from the empty field claiming to be a docking port to the Frye's home on the other side of town.  "Ya ain't introduced your crew ta us yet.  I see new faces since ya last shipped off."_

                "Right," Kaylee clipped.  "Well, ya know Cap'n Reynolds, an' Wash and Zoë."

                "So I do," Nora said.

                "And this here's Inara, case you couldn't figure it out . . ."

            "I could figure them all out, Kaywinith, I just wanna be introduced proper."

                "Right," Kaylee said, "Ma, this is Inara, Nara, this is my ma."

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Frye," Inara said politely, although she had to yell a little to be heard over the din of the conversations around her.

"You too dearie," Nora said, "I've heard so many wonderful things."

                "An this is Shepherd Book."

                "Ma'am." 

                "Very pleased ta meet ya, Shepherd," Nora said.  "Been longin' to ever since Kaylee first described ya."

                "An' Jayne," Kaylee continued.

                "Ma'am," Jayne said, tipping his hat to her.

                "He's politer than ya made him sound, sweetie,"

                "I clean up good," the large man said, smiling sweetly at Kaylee's mother, who didn't see her daughter roll her eyes.

                "And this," Kaylee said, forcing her mother away from the 'charming' Jayne, "Is Simon and River."

                "It's very nice to meet you Ma'am," Simon said politely.

                "The children have a game," River said.  "The take the flowers and sing 'mama had a baby and his head popped off.'  But that didn't happen, he caught fever and died."

                There was a very heavy minute of silence.

                "Ah," Simon finally said, "I'm very sorry about, ah . . . River."

                "You were dead-on right about them, Kaylee, dear," Mrs. Fray said, turning to her daughter.  "I see 'xactly what cha meant."

                This answer, however, didn't seem to relax Simon at all.  Mrs. Frye, thankfully, noticed the young doctor's extreme unease and laughed good-naturedly.  "Don't fret over your sister.  This family's got odder then her in it.  Least she smiles."

*   *   *

                "Hey, Doc, I gotta know, can Zoë dance?"  Wash said, running up to Simon.  

                The young doctor was standing on the very edge of the large gathering and had been somewhat hard to find.  There were easily over a hundred and fifty people at Kaylee's welcome home party.  There was more food, more real food, than _Serenity's_ crew had seen in months.  Fresh hodgeberries, blueberries, raspberries, apples, pears, and even large, plump strawberries, Kaylee's favorite.  There was meat too, real meat: a roasted pig, ground beef meatballs in thick sweet gravy, and barbecued chickens.  There were also all sorts of cakes, pound cake, fruitcake, yellow cake, and pies: pecan pie, apple pie, pumpkin pie, rhubarb pie.  It was a feast to rival the swankiest of parties. Simon had to admit, held under Newhope's cool early autumn sky, lit by torches and a large bonfire, it was the best party he'd ever been to.  Even if he was very carefully avoiding every other guest and consistently preoccupied with the worry that an accident would lead to someone's horrific death by third degree burns.

                "I don't know," Simon said innocently. "She's your wife."

                Wash, who was clearly enjoying the large keg of very hard cider, laughed loudly and slapped Simon on the back.  "It won't hurt the baby, I mean, will it?"

                "Not unless you trip and fall on her because you're too drunk to dance," Simon said, pulling away from the intoxicated pilot.  "Where is Zoë, she's not drinking, is she?"

                "No," Wash said, trying to pull himself up and appear passingly sober.  "She said I could drink for the both of us."

                "Well, you've been doing a good job," Simon said.  "You should probably go to bed."

                "Nah," Wash said.  "I'm just fine."

                "Well, at least try to drink something non-alcoholic, re-hydrate yourself.  And stay away from the torches."

                "Got cha," Wash said.  "Yes to water, no to fire.  May I part with your blessing?"

                "If you feel you must have them," Simon said.

                Wash however, did not seem inclined to depart.

                "So, why are ya back here, all alone?"

                "I'm not alone," Simon said, "I have River."  He nodded to the ground where River was sitting.  She was braiding together the summer's last dandelions, all of them she could find.  The chain looked, to Wash, like it could have stretched from the Serenity's cockpit to the engine room, down the stairs and back out the hatch without much trouble.  But then, he was very drunk.

                "She ain't much for company."

                "Presently, neither are you," Simon pointed out.

                Wash laughed "Yeah," he said, pointing at the doctor affectionately.  "Good point.  I should maybe find Zoë."

                "Maybe."

                "I think we're gonna dance."

                "Oh?" Simon said, as if this were news to him.

                "Hey," Wash said, apparently forgetting, again, that he meant to be going back to Zoë.  "Din'you say River used ta dance?"

                "Well," Simon said glancing down at his sister.  He knew that she was very aware of this conversation; he assumed that she was always very aware of everything, although he also assumed that she never really understood what was happening around her.  "I'm sure if she wanted to . . ."

                She glanced up at him so suddenly that it startled the perfectly sober Doctor.  Wash, however, was either too drunk to be startled or too drunk to show it.  "I'm done, let's dance."

                "I thought you didn't want to be in the middle of all the people," Simon said.

                "You didn't want to be in the middle of all the people," River said, standing up and wiping the dandelion sap off of her hands onto her dress.  "I didn't want you to be alone."

                "Great!" Wash said, too loudly, grabbing Simon's arm.  "Let's go!"

                The drunken pilot dragged the doctor into the center of the party, a large area set-aside for dancing; River followed, laughing out loud the entire way.  Simon was tempted to ask River why she was laughing, but he had a feeling she would confess that she was laughing at him, and if that was the case he'd really rather not have known.  The crowd had thinned somewhat.  All the children were in bed, as were those who needed to wake up early without a hang-over.  By this time, those remaining had eaten all they wanted to and were content with drinking.  A group of Kaylee's cousins had gathered together a few guitars, a flute, a fiddle and a drum and were making music for a very lively jig.  "Hey Mal!" Wash yelled into the crowd, pulling Simon over to where most of _Serenity's crew was standing, very near the cider.  "Look what I found!"_

                "Ah, Doctor," Mal said, with drunken good humor.  "Wonder'd where you'd gone off ta."

                "Nowhere special," Simon said.  "Just around."

                "He was with River," Wash explained.  "She was making a dandelion rope."

                "Well," Mal said, beaming at the young girl, who beamed back.  "Ain't that nice.  See, Jayne, told ya she weren't useless."  Mal said over his shoulder.  Jayne, however, wasn't there.  "Hey Zoë," Mal said to the person who was there.  "Where's Jayne?"

                "He left, sir," Zoë said with sober tact.  "If you'll remember.  With that blond girl."

                "Oh," Mal said, nodding.  "Right, yeah, she, she was pretty."

                "Not as pretty as my wife," Wash said giddily, walking up to Zoë and taking her hands.  Simon was surprised to see that the firstmate was more amused by her husband's behavior than annoyed, but then, he'd decided long ago that it was better for to just accept Wash and Zoë, and not try to understand them.  "Come on, sweetie, Doc said its ok ta dance."

                "I told you he would," Zoë said, rolling her eyes and laughing.  "I'm not an invalid. I'm just pregnant!"

                "Don't that just warm yer heart?" Mal said, loud enough to block out whatever Wash said as he swept his wife onto the floor.  

                "What?" Simon asked.  "Wash and Zoë?"

                "Yeah," Mal drawled, his voice a little dreamy.  "Was a time when I wanted a wife, a son, a bunch of daughters who'd call me papa and wear frilly pink dresses."

                "Really?" Simon asked to be polite.  He'd just realized that he wasn't sure where River'd gone.

                "I don't know why I always thought I'd have a lotta daughters," Mal continued as Simon scanned the crowd around him.  "I guess it's 'cause girls is so sweet, ya know?  A boy, he causes all manner of trouble, gettin' in scrapes.  But daughter's they, they just love."

                "I'm sure," Simon said, taking a step back.  Maybe it was just the pale light and shifting shadows of the torches, but River wasn't anywhere to be found.   "Captain, sir, I need to . . ."

                "Ya know, I always wanted a baby sister, as a little kid," Mal mused, clearly oblivious to Simon's behavior.  "I think I just like ta take care of things."

                "I need to find River," Simon said, because no matter how drunk the Captain was, he didn't want to leave so rudely without offering an explanation.  

                If Mal noticed, it didn't deter from his self disclosure.  "It's why I like the ship so much, I think.  She's like a daughter, gotta take care a her, giver her the right fuel, make sure she gets tuned up and all, but without the work a havin' a family . . ."

*   *   *

                "River?" Simon called loudly, to be heard over the din of drunken conversations, lively music, and dancing couples.  He'd worked half way around the dance floor and his sister was nowhere to be found.  He was near panic.

"Simon!" Kaylee squealed, drawing the doctor's attention.  She was surrounded by handsome young men, and had been for most of the party.  She was talking, laughing, pushing her hair behind her ears only to have it tumble out again.  Her cheeks were just a little flushed from the alcohol but her eye's were bright and keen.  For a moment, his building concerns for his sister were almost driven from his mind.  Kaylee looked about as beautiful as Simon had ever seen her, and he could tell by the gleam in all the other young men's eyes that he wasn't alone in his observations.   

This was, more than Simon would ever admit, the reason he'd avoided the party.  He didn't want to compete for Kaylee, he couldn't, not against these men, who knew her so well, who spoke her language, who understood her, who weren't being hunted by the Alliance, who's mere acquaintance couldn't get her killed.

                "Hey," The girl said, coming up to him, smiling beautifully, sparkling.

                "Hey," Simon said back.  He suddenly felt very hot and very thirsty.

                "Wanna dance?" She asked.

                Simon blinked and forced himself to think, "I can't, you see . . ."

                "Don't have ta dance well," Kaylee said, clearly not understanding his objections.  "Just have ta try."

                "No, River . . ."

                "Got an answer for that," Kaylee said, slipping away from him for a second, leaving him cold but still thirsty.  

                "Kaylee," he said, taking a step to follow her but no more.  "You don't under-- . . ."

                He was interrupted by a large wooden mug full of cider being shoved into his hands.  "Drink this," River suggested.  "You're thirsty."

                "River," he said, almost overcome with relief.  He reached out and touched her smiling face, displaying all the faith of St. Thomas.  "Where were you?"

"Getting drinks, silly," the girl said, as if she'd told him and he'd forgotten, before taking a deep swig out of her own mug.  

Simon looked at the amber liquid, then to his sister.  "Have you had any of this?" he demanded foolishly.

                She smiled at him and nodded, "It's good," and took another sip.

                "River, you shouldn't be drinking this, you're too young."

                "I've seen time stream by," River said in her eerily serious and slightly insane way, her voice lax and her eyes unfocused. "Flow like a river past me.  I've been baptized in time, sunk under until something died, come up gasping for breath.  New life out of time." She blinked and came back to herself.  "I think I'm old enough for alcohol," she said candidly.

                Simon struggled to comprehend what River meant for a moment before realizing that such endeavors were never worth the effort he put into them.  "Who gave this to you?" He asked, believing that he'd be able to confront the inattentive barkeep and have his sister cut off.

                "Captain Reynolds," River said in a wonderfully snobbish way, the way she talked as a child whenever she'd convinced there parents to take her side in an argument, which was most times.

                "You're kidding," Simon said dryly.

                "Drink up, Simon," River said, taking her own advice.  "Don't want to be too cold."

                "Now, River, you know that alcohol doesn't actually keep you warm.  It draws blood away from your extremities which can lead to serious health issues," Simon lectured as he scanned the crowd, catching Mal's eyes so he could send a very disapproving scowl.  The captain didn't seem to notice the glower; however, he raised his own wooden mug jovially, letting the sweet amber liquid slosh over its lip and onto his hand.  He seemed surprised, when that happened, and took down his mug, gazing at his hand, trying to figure out just why it was wet, or perhaps just why he had less cider in his mug than he'd had a minute ago.  Simon sighed and turned back to River.  "No more, _mei__ mei, you understand?"_

                "You're not my father," the girl said, wrapping her hands around the wooden vessel and pulling it close to her chest.  Simon understood that, if he wanted her to stop drinking, he'd have to pry the cider from her cold, dead hands.  

                "I just want you to be safe," he said.  "And alcohol . . ."

                "Doesn't react with any of my medications," the girl said solidly.

                "I don't know that, we'd have to check the . . ."

                "It doesn't," River insisted.  "You think I'll get drunk and that someone will rape me."

                Truthfully, Simon hadn't been brave enough to think that.  Almost instinctively, he took a deep drink of his own cider, trying to wash the notion away.

                "It won't happen," River said.  "I'm too smart."

                "River, it's not about being smart," Simon said, lowering his glass.  "It's just, when you drink sometimes . . ."

                "Hey," Kaylee's voice said, cutting through the doctor's lecturing.  She looked just as distractingly beautiful as she had before, all soft and radiant in the firelight.  Behind her was a younger man, about River's age.  He was somewhat boxy and short, not more than an inch taller than River, with a bright face, not unlike Kaylee's, and deep brown eyes.  His round face was a little flushed, from nervousness, excitement, or too much cider, Simon wasn't quite sure.  "Just the people I was lookin' for." 

                Simon, too polite and reserved to lecture River in front of a stranger, especially a stranger her own age, tried very hard to greet the newcomers cordially.  "Hello, Kaylee, I hadn't realized you were looking for us."

                "Simon, River," Kaylee said, "This here's my cousin, Jackobeam."

                "Ah, Hello," Simon said, reaching out to shake the boy's hand.  It was clear what Kaylee was doing, Simon just wished he had an idea how to stop it.

                "Very nice to meet you, Dr. Tam," the boy said respectively.  "And you can just call me Jack."

                "Right," Simon said, forcing himself to smile politely.  "Jack."

                "Jack here was wondrin' if River'd like ta dance," Kaylee said, somewhat pointedly.

                "Well," Simon said, "She's . . ."

                "Yes," the girl said, glancing mischievously at her brother as she grabbed Jack's arm and, after shoving her drink onto her brother, pulled him onto the floor.

                "Kaylee," Simon said, turning away from the intoxicatingly pretty girl so he could place his sister's disregarded drink on a near by table.  "I wish you would have asked me first."

"Wow," Kaylee said, totally ignoring his comments.  "She's amazing."

                Simon followed her gaze and saw his sister and Jack, dancing the reel with a grace and passion and abandon that was unrivalled on the makeshift dance floor.  Simon wondered if it could be rivaled anywhere.  The crowd, drunk as they were, was starting to notice the young couple, well, River really, dancing as beautifully and as naturally as a bird flies or a star twinkles.

                "It's so good," Simon said, forgetting that he was upset, "To see her dance, like this.  She never, I mean, she was classically trained but, but I always kind of thought that this, folk dancing, was what she really loved.  She would," he laughed softly at the memories, "She'd grab me when mom and dad were away, at a dinner party or something, and beg me to partner with her because she wanted to try a new jig or something she'd seen on the Cortex but her instructor wouldn't teach her."

                "So you can do these kinda dances then?" Kaylee asked, looking up at Simon expectantly.

                "I know how," Simon answered, not really getting the gist of her question.  "But she'd always get frustrated with me as a partner.  I wasn't coordinated enough and, frankly, didn't really care.  Jack, however, seems to be doing very well."

                "Well," Kaylee said, rather loudly, as she pulled on his arm, almost physically dragging his attention away from his sister.  "I promise not ta get frustrated with you as a partner."

                Simon looked at her and blinked, "Oh," he said, realizing what was obvious.  "You want to dance."

                "Yeah," Kaylee nodded.

                "Ah," Simon stuttered, before taking another, deep, swig of his cider.  "Right."  

                He took a deep breath and set the wooden mug down on the table next to River's and wiped his sweaty palms on his pant legs.  Then, extending his hand to her very politely, and bowing just a little, said, "Would you do me the honor, ma'am, of a dance?"

                Kaylee smiled and any embarrassment or uneasiness Simon felt got lost in her eyes, "I'd love ta," she said.

                On the other side of the dance floor, a very drunken Mal Reynolds had found a bosom friend in Kaylee's Uncle Hubert, who had eight daughters and one son.  Both had been caught up when Hubert's son and Mal's youngest crewmember started dancing.

                "Didn't know the boy could move like that," Uncle Hubert said.  "He's agile and he's quick, but _gai__ si**[i]** that girl makes him look good."_

                "She do," Mal said, a little proudly.  "She's one of mine.  Took her in off the street, so ta speak."

                "You're a good man Cap'n Reynolds," Uncle Hubert said, slapping Mal on the back.  The captain didn't notice.

                "Well now, look at that," he said, pointing to Simon and Kaylee, who'd just started to dance.  They didn't dance half or even a quarter as well as Jack and River, but as both of them chuckled at their general gracelessness they were, unquestionably, enjoying the dance and that had its own kind of appeal.  "Don't that just warm yer heart?"

To Be Continued . . .

  


* * *


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: In which River does something wrong and Genie starts doing things right

SATERDAY 

River's favorite time of every night was when everyone was asleep, when the din of everyone's voices became little more than the murmur of dreams. If Simon knew that's how she felt, he'd probably be worried. If he knew she made a habit of wondering around _Serenity_ late at night when no one was awake he'd probably try to find a way to lock her door. If he knew she planed to do the same now that they were planetside, he'd probably try to stay awake for seven days straight to insure she was never able to wander off. But there were a lot of things Simon didn't know, and a lot of things he couldn't bring himself to remember. It wasn't his fault, River thought, he had a lot of pain and, trying to protect her, he kept it all to himself. Eventually, that dark ball River could feel growing in him would kill him, if something didn't stop it. River wished she knew what possibly could.

It took a long time for everyone to tumble into sleep on this particular night, with the party and the excitement. Most of the attendants didn't go to bed until very, very early in the morning. Thankfully, River was told to sleep in a room with six other girls, all of whom were far too tired to notice when their guest got up, climbed out the open window, down a tree, and headed for the empty _Serenity_.

River padded through the town, watching it wake up, the baker and the milk man had already started working, the cooks and workers in the taverns and inns had all started cooking breakfast and many a farmer was out milking a cow. The world was clearly alive; River felt that life pulsing through her.

When she reached _Serenity_, the first rays of sunlight were starting to creep across the horizon. She wouldn't have long, she knew. She crept up the still open hatch, used all her strength to open the airlock door once she'd overridden its locks. She made no noise as she padded, barefoot, up the stairs in the cargo bay and told the doors to Inara's shuttle to hush as she opened them. Thankfully, the companion was so exhausted from her own -- reasonably conservative -- revelry, that she didn't notice the girl enter. She didn't notice the girl hack into her shuttles computer and program a very unusual set of commands into the shuttle's small transmitters. She didn't even hear River's soft giggles of excitement from the thrill of doing something wonderfully naughty. The young girl was doing to Simon, more or less, what Captain Reynolds had done to Kaylee. Simon would be mad when he discovered her activities, which he would have to if her plan worked, but he'd be so happy it wouldn't matter.

River crept out of the shuttle and skipped almost the entire way back to the room with the six girls in it. When she reached her pile of blankets, she sighed happily and curled up. Simon would be so very happy, she thought, hopefully that thought and the warm autumn sunlight streaming in from the window would be enough to hold nightmares at bay.

* * * 

Inara set her shuttle down on the roof of the largest villa on the top of the large hill overlooking the bustling city of Du Cheng. It was an exciting city, growing by the day. As the long arm of the Alliance reached out further and further into the darkness of space, civilization itself seemed to sprout out of nothing. Four years ago, Du Cheng had barely existed, now it was considered an up-and-coming city. A place where energetic and resourceful young men and women could go and make a fortune, a world of opportunity. Kaylee had left this little world barely two years earlier, and in that time the city's population had doubled. 

This was, in no small part, Inara imagined, due to the good management of her client, Reginald Comworth. He was the planet's Governor, she'd learned last night. According to Kaylee's many relations, he was a good man, fair and just. No one much minded having the pushy Alliance assign them a leader if they kept assigning men like him. 

His granddaughter was well-known, and generally liked. It was said that she was a Newhope child through and through, adventurous, rambunctious, not pinned down by convention and tradition. Inara chose not to disclose that she'd been hired to culture the young girl, weed some of the adventurousness and rambunctiousness out of her while teaching her the importance of convention and tradition. She had a feeling that wouldn't go over too well with the citizens of Sweet Well.

When she exited her shuttle she was immediately greeted by the heavenly aroma of a well-kept rose garden. It was the most wonderful smell Inara could imagine, so she didn't even have to try to smile as she introduced herself to the older man with bright, sad, blue eyes and his pretty young granddaughter. 

"Governor Comworth," Inara said, extending her hand, "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"And you, Lady Inara," the governor said before kissing her hand cordially. "I can not tell you how pleased I was when you accepted my invitation."

"It truly is my pleasure," Inara said, then turning to the girl. "And you must be Regina."

"Yeah," the girl said, sticking out her hand as if for a very masculine handshake. "Call me Genie."

"Genie," Inara said, taking the girls hand delicately by the side and squeezing it in a far more feminine version of a hand shake. "It's such a pleasure to meet you. I do hope we'll be able to be friends."

"Right," the girl said, looking at the companion as if she was insane. 

Inara smiled pleasantly at the girl and then back up to her grandfather. "When do you think we should start the lessons?"

"Genie is ready," the Governor said, putting his wrinkled hand on his granddaughter's shoulder affectionately. "But we don't want to stress you, Lady Inara."

"I'm quite ready," Inara said. "If it's all right, I think it'd be best to start in the rose garden. Genie and I can walk around and get to know each other a little better."

"I think that would be just fine," Gov. Comworth said, obviously pleased with how this was going. "Genie, show Lady Inara to the garden, would you? And remember to be on you best behavior."

"Yes, Papa," the girl sighed, "You can follow me, ma'am."

"You can just call me 'Inara'," the companion said. "I was serious when I said I hope'd we'd be friends."

"Fine, Inara," The girl said. "Please, follow me."

Genie slouched a little as she led the companion through the villa's beautiful marble hallways covered with holographic representations of classical works of art. Her grandfather fell in step with Inara, so that they could talk softly.

"You have a marvelous home, Governor," Inara said. "I can't remember the last time I saw anyplace so beautiful."

"I try," Gov. Comworth said, smiling a little. "When I was sent to this planet six years ago it seemed to me to be nothing but a ball of mud. I wanted to bring all the comforts of home."

"Do you have a different view of the planet now?"

"Now the planet is home," he said with a smile. "These are just a reminder of where we came from, not the core planets, so much, as where humanity came from."

"It's nice to be able to remember," Inara said, her eyes resting on Degas' "Place de la Concord" 

"Indeed," he said. "But, I must know, what do you think of Regina?"

"I think," Inara said causally, "That she has the adoration of this planet's citizens because she is, as I was told 'A daughter of the soil.'"

"That will get her nowhere in polite society, I'm afraid," the Governor said.

"The trick will be refining the gold and removing the dross," Inara said. "I don't want to change your granddaughter, not an iota. I want her to be able to present herself in such a way that even the most close-minded, arrogant, self-important snob will see the wonderful girl that all of Newhope knows."

Governor Comworth smiled and laughed, "I am so glad you chose to come here," he said. "So very, very glad."

"Hey," Genie said, turning her head, "What you guys talkin' about?"

"You," Inara said honestly. 

"Oh," the girl said, blushing a little and returning her attention to where she was going. "Well, then, I don't want to interrupt you." 

Inara laughed, "I can tell that this is one job I am going to thoroughly enjoy."

* * *

Mal woke up with a horrible headache. As he stumbled down stairs he didn't remember stumbling up last night, he tried to recall who'd sent him off to bed. 

The house he was in was large. Not large enough to get lost in, but large enough to feel big. As Mal passed through it he could hear noises on the other side of most of the doors, not loud or intriguing noises, but the soft pad of bare feat on wooden floors, the creek of opening a drawer, mummers of two voices quietly talking, the chainsaw like snore of someone who hadn't woken up yet. Whatever house he was in, he could defiantly say it was alive.

When he finally wound his way to the kitchen, he discovered his hostess and the first of his crew."Mornin' Cap'n," Kaylee said brightly, looking up for a very large bowl which she'd been put to work stirring. "Didn't expect ta see you up so early."

"Why?" Mal said, scanning the intolerably bright room for a coffee pot. "What time is it?" 

"Nearly ten," Nora said, mercifully providing Mal with a ceramic mug filled with hot black coffee. "But you were mighty drunk last night."

"Was I?" Mal asked, not really wanting to know the answer and hear its proofs.

"Daddy had ta practically drag ya up ta bed," Kaylee laughed. "Course, he weren't much more sober then you."

Mal grunted a sort of laugh and nodded, then winced as the slight movement sent lightning bolts of pain streaking behind his eyes. Kaylee giggled at her captain's expression. Mal was sorely tempted to be upset with her, but her chuckles were so bright and cheery that he ended up laughing with her. "I must admit, Nora, you here know how ta throw a party."

"We do what we can," Kaylee's mother said. She was frying a lot of bacon in a very large pan. Mal was starting to realize he was very hungry. "Ain't every day our little girl comes home. It's so kind of ya, Cap'n, ta bring her back."

"Yeah, well, don't think ya kin keep 'er," Mal said, smiling as he walked over to the large platter of finished bacon. "We need her up on _Serenity_, she's the only one can keep us in the air." He reached tentatively for a slice of bacon, glancing at Mrs. Frye to see if she was going to whack his hand away with the spatula. She smiled and nodded, giving him clear leave to steal as much bacon as he wanted. 

"Oh, no amount a mother's lecturing could keep her planetside," Nora chuckled. "My girl's got a free spirit."

"Speekin' of," Mal said, turning back to the blushing Kaylee. "How'd it go with Simon last night? Well?"

The girl laughed and shook her head, "Not so much as other times," she finally said. "But better then usual."

"Well," Mal sighed, "I guess that's somethin'."

Kaylee smiled and blushed and turned back to her mixing.

"Don't suppose you know where the good doctor is this morning," Mal asked the kitchen in general. "An' the rest of my crew for that matter?"

"Why, ya need 'em?" Kaylee asked.

"Naw, just like to keep tabs," Mal explained. "It's a captain thing."

"Well," Nora said. "If ya kin wait another twenty minutes everybody's supposed ta come over fer a nice large brunch."

"Ah, hence the bacon."

"Yep," Kaylee said. "'Course Nara won't be commin' she left fer that job early this mornin'."

"Right," Mal said. "Over in Du Cheng."

"Shame she won't be around," Nora said. "I'd of loved ta talked to her a might."

"She'll be back," Mal clipped, "She's only workin' five days, we're set ta be here seven."

"True 'nuff, I suppose," Nora sighed. 

"How 'bout Jayne?" Mal asked, longing to talk about anyone but Inara. "Know where he is?"

"Who'd he go off with last night, Ma?" Kaylee asked. "Was it Janice Forbot?"

"It was," Nora said nodding. "So's there's no tellin' where he slept. Behind a barn in a haystack like as not. Wouldn't 'spect ta see him fer brunch if he was with her."

"Ah, well," Mal said causally, "He's a big boy, can take care a his self. I'm sure he'll find his way back here eventually. How 'bout the others?"

"Well," Kaylee said, getting up from the table, her mixing finally done. "Zoë and Wash are stayin' with my brother Collin and his wife, they live jus' down the street."

"They'll be over fer brunch," Nora said.

"An' Shepherd Book's stayin' with my sister Jackie and her family," Kaylee continued, she'd reached the stove and was starting to ladle pancake batter out of the large bowl she'd been stirring onto a skillet. "And River's with Uncle Hubert and Aunt Tammy and their girls. Simon was supposed ta stay with Doc Garland, but he got all panicky 'bout River stayin' alone."

Mal laughed, "I imagine he did."

"So he's over there too, with Jack. And I think that's everyone."

"Seems ta be," Mal nodded. "And you say they'll all be here in a matter a minutes?"

"Good Lord yes," Nora said, "Thank god for sunny days, gotta set the table outside and all the places, should be 'bout twenty people fer breakfast, and Tammy promised ta bring enough milk fer everyone ta have some but if I know her she'll forget 'bout half the people so's we ought'a go and fetch some from the barn, and some butter from the cool box wouldn't go amiss. Don't suppose you could lead me a hand, Cap'n?"

"Be my pleasure, Ma'am," Mal said, "Just tell me what to do."

* * *

"The trick to being a lady," Inara explained as she had tea with Genie in the Comworth's beautiful rose garden, "Is beauty."

"So what?" the girl asked. "Yer gonna teach me what dresses are in fashion and how to do my makeup."

"Well, yes," Inara admitted. "But that's not really what I mean. You can be very attractive and still not be beautiful."

"Are you going to tell me that real beauty is within, because if so . . ."

"No," Inara laughed pleasantly. "And yes."

"Do you even know what you're going to teach me?"

"Well, I hope to teach you how to make every action beautiful."

Genie guffawed at the very idea.

"You see," Inara said. "That's not very beautiful. Is there a way for you to laugh without making a snorting noise like a pig?"

"Whatever," Genie muttered.

Inara sighed, consciously letting her composure slip a little, "You don't want to do this, do you?"

"No," Genie said.

"Well, I don't want to fight with you about it."

"You don't?" the girl was obviously aware that the companion was trying to pull something, she just couldn't figure out what.

"No, I don't," Inara said, picking up the napkin in her lap and folding it in what seemed like an absentminded mannor. "It's only my second day here, I'm sure I'll be able to find more work before I leave. And even if I can't, my ship is docked in the most charming little town imaginable. I wouldn't mind some time in a peaceful country inn, eating some good frontier home-cooking, and enjoying the wilderness."

"Sounds great," Genie said. "Go with my blessing."

"Of course, just because I leave, that doesn't mean your grandfather will quit trying to find someone to coach you."

"He can try aplenty," Genie said, smiling sweetly. "No one else wants the job."

"In that case, Dearie," Inara said, putting her napkin, folded into an elegant fan shape, down on the table in front of her. "I'm really very sorry."

"Because I'll stand out like a sore thumb in 'polite society'?" This was obviously a threat Genie didn't take too seriously.

"Exactly," Inara said sharply. "You are a clever, sweet, remarkable young woman, I can see that. What I can't see is why you knowingly are heading for the worst possible torture I can imagine."

"It can't possibly be so –"

"It is a thousand times worse," Inara said sharply. "Think of hundreds of people smiling at you to your face and laughing at you behind your back; young women who have nearly endless financial resources and hours of spare time amassing all of their energies to humiliate you for fun; every young man you know being your friend, but none of them wanting to be anything more. And imagine all your social faux pas are broadcast over the Cortex as headlines on the society waves. Is that what you want?"

Genie didn't blink, which was to Inara's advantage, because there was sheer terror in the young girl's eyes. "I don't want to change, pretend to be what I'm not."

"You don't have to," Inara said, laughing comfortingly and putting back on her soft, amiable countenance. "You just have to be aware of yourself. You have to want to show people how beautiful you can be, how beautifully you can speak, how beautifully you can act, how beautifully you can move. No ones asking you to change, we just want you to be the most beautiful you you can be."

"Fine," Genie said, sitting up a little straighter and pulling her elbows off the table. "I'll stop being a brat."

"Thank you," Inara said pleasantly. 

Genie smiled back sarcastically, "My pleasure, I'm sure."

"Not quite right," Inara commented as she pored them both a cup of tea. "But a marked improvement."

To Be Continued . . .


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: In which Wash succumbs to his parental instincts, Zoë is one of the guys and River's naughtiness is discovered

"So," Kaylee's sister-in-law Marggie, asked during breakfast.  "Y'all are pregnant?"

Zoë glanced at Wash and smiled, squeezing his hand affectionately.  "Yah," She said, "Got any advice?"

                "Give them what they need, not what they want," laughed Margie, who had a very plump one-year-old in her lap and was keeping her eyes on a two and a three-year-old who were playing with the other children in the yard behind Zoë.

                "Sound advice," Wash said, "When our baby's crying for Champaign I'll be sure to put my foot down and say milk or nothing."

                Margie laughed again, "You are so silly!"

                "Seriously," Zoë insisted, pushing aside a set of chuckles.  "What do you mean?"

                "Baby's cry for everything," Margie explained.  "You don' have ta give them everything.  If ya need ta sleep, the baby can wait for ten minutes, ain't gonna kill it.  If your arm's is tired, the baby can lie in the crib, ain't gonna hurt it."

                "Seems a little mean," Wash said, perfectly seriously. "If the baby's crying you should . . ."

                "I ain't sayin' ignore it," Margie quickly explained.  "I love my babies more 'en I love anything. I'm jus' sayin' that some times a mom works too hard ta make sure the baby's always happy.  It don't hurt the baby ta cry a little, but sometimes it can hurt you ta live your life makin' sure the baby don't cry."

                "You're talkin' about setting boundaries," Zoë said, "Makin' sure I don't go nuts."

                "First baby ya don't know what your doin' so ya jump at everything," Margie said.  "I got so stressed my hair started turnin' white.  Thought if little Alexis cried was 'cause I was bein' bad.  Ain't so."

                "Thanks," Zoë said.  "I'll remember that."

                "Ew," Wash said, kissing his wife on her temple, "White hairs, don't want that."

                Margie laughed again, "Your husband, Zoë, he's crazy funny."

                "What can I say," Zoë said, smiling lovingly at her husband.  "Ya can't chose who ya fall in love with."

                Margie laughed again, "Your both too funny.  Must be horrible hilarious on that ship, what with Kaylee bein' happy all the time like she is.  She is still happy all the time, ain't she?"

                "Ridiculously so," Wash said.

                "Good ta know," Margie said.  "But then, I guess ya have ta be a pretty happy type person ta work on a space ship.  No sun, no people ta talk to, nothin' but cold and dark."

                "Ain't so bad," Zoë said.  "Crew gets pretty tight."

                "Bet they're all real excited 'bout the baby."

                "Yeah," Zoë laughed.  "It's really gonna change all our lives."

                "Ya got a nursery for it?"

                "Ah," Wash said, glancing at Zoë, then back at Margie, "No."

                "Well, where's it gonna sleep?"

                "That a good question," Wash said.

                "In our room, I guess," Zoë said with a shrug.  

                "In our room?" Wash asked, clearly not likening the idea too much.

                "It's a baby, sweetie," Zoë said practically.  "Then, when it grows a bit, it can stay over in the guest quarters." 

                "Ya got a crib?" Margie asked.  

                "No," Wash said, "Why, you have an old one?"

                "Naw," Margie laughed, "Just ya might wanna get somethin' sturdy.  Don't know what it's like on a space ship, but can't be too careful on a home where the floor moves."

                "She has a point," Wash told Zoë, "You said your husband was a carpenter, didn't you?"

                "He could make ya somethin'," Margie said.  "Wouldn't charge ya but for the wood, ya bein' Kaylee's shipmates and all."

                "We couldn't possibly . . ." Zoë started.

                "Would he let me help?" Wash interrupted.  "Or, wait, no, would he let me make it?"

                "Ya work much with wood?" Margie asked.

                "No," Zoë said.  "He hasn't."

                "I've built a working atmo-ship practically from scratch."

                "With Kaylee's help," Zoë interjected.

                "I think I can hammer in a few nails."

                "Great," Margie interjected.  "I'll tell Collin, y'all can start this afternoon."

                "I'm so excited," Wash said, drumming his fingers on the wooden table.  "It's like the first step into a lifetime of fatherly projects.  I've decided I'm going to be the kind of dad who can do everything."

                "Hold up a minute," Zoë laughed. "'For you jump headlong into handymanship, you're forgetting something. Captain's got a big fishin' trip planed for today."

                "Well I can miss it, can't I?" Wash asked, pouting a little.  "How many people do you really need to fish?  I mean, won't too many hooks confuse them, tip them off maybe?"

                "Their brains are about the size of a pea," Zoë reminded him, "Don't think they got enough sense to get confused.  'Sides, the fishin' ain't the point.  Crew bonding's the point."

                "Kaylee isn't goin'," Wash pointed out.

                "She's stayin' with her family. They ain't seen her for months on end."

                "I haven't seen her family for months on end either."

                "Everybody but Kaylee's goin'."

                "River's not going either."

                "You wanna sit in a small boat in the middle of a deep lake with that girl?"

                "I don't even want to think of her near a tackle box, what with the sharp hooks and the more sharper hooks," Wash said.  "But the point is that Kaylee and River and Simon – "

                "Nope," Zoë said.  "Contrary to popular belief, them two ain't joined at the hip.  Simon's comin'.  And you're comin'."

*   *   *

                "Why isn't Wash coming?" Simon asked as the group headed out around noon for a slow, relaxed afternoon of fishing.  

                "He's got stuff he's doin'," Zoë clipped.  "Got special dispensation from the Captain."

                "And how did he --"

                "River will be fine," Zoë said, cutting the doctor off before the young man got his hopes too high.  "There's easily thirty people lookin' after her."

                "None of whom have anything resembling medical or psychological training."

                "They got compassion and common sense," Zoë said.  "For a few hours, that'll be enough."

                Simon took a deep breath and nodded.  It had taken the captain, Kaylee and Book most of breakfast to convince him that leaving River alone with a group of girls her age would be good for her.  It would, they argued, give her a chance to make friends and get a glimpse of how regular kids interacted.  Simon agreed with them whole heatedly, she'd spent the majority of her adolescence in some perverted nightmare of a school. The social skills accumulated between the age of 14 and 17 were vital, and she'd been denied an environment where she could hope to learn them.  If there were other children, Simon doubted she ever saw them. It spoke volumes of the depths of the Academy's cruelty that being robbed of such important interactions was the least of River's troubles.

The argument went that, as long as Simon was around, River would be inclined to stay with or near him, and the whole point of her staying behind (besides the fact that no one, including Simon, was in favor of putting her in a small boat and give her access to a box full of sharp hooks) would have been lost.  Eventually, he'd had to agree.  Still, every step he took farther away from River, the more worried he became.  He couldn't ask to go back, Mal wouldn't have let him in a million years; nor could he find his way back to the Frye's house, he'd been so lost in worry that he hadn't been paying attention to the path they'd taken. So it was almost a good thing when Simon's attention was drawn away from his musings by someone pushing him roughly on the shoulder as they walked through the town.

                "Excuse me," Simon said, his tone of voice making it clear he expected a full apology.

                "Might," the man sighed.  He was about Simon's age, very muscular, with oily brown hair and dark, dark eyes.  There was something about the way he moved, or maybe the way he spoke, that made Simon uneasy.   "I got a bone ta pick with you."

                "Sir," Simon said, a condescending edge in his voice.  "I don't see how that's possible considering we've never been introduced."

                "What are your intentions ta my Kaylee?" he demanded.

                "What, may I ask," Simon said, clearing his throat.  "Entitles you to call her yours?"

                "Don' you be questionin' me!" the man said, his small eyes looking just a little wild. "I hear her letter's read out loud."

                "Her letters?" Simon, at this point, was as confused as he was affronted.  "Are you her brother?"

                "They read them after services on Sunday, ya fop," the man said, spitting tobacco juice out of the space where a tooth should have been on the side of his mouth.  "And I listen 'cause, ya see, Kaylee 'n me, we is meant for each other."

                Simon, who didn't believe fate or destiny had thrown him on _Serenity, and certainly didn't believe his present relationship, nebulous though it was, was the result of some cosmic forces plotting and scheming their lives, driving Kaylee and him towards each other because they were, as Plato would have said it, to halves of the same soul.  All that, Simon was convinced, fell under the category of utter nonsense for a feebly romantic mind.  Still, oddly, he resented the idea that this man, crude and awkward, who chewed tobacco and considered his rotted-out teeth a convenience, could possibly be pretty little Kaylee's soul mate._

"She never mentioned you," Simon said, more than a little snidely.

"I'm surprised a fancy-dan like you listens when she talks," the man grunted before spitting again. "You go anywhere near her again and I'll beat your face so bad it'll never hold that smirk again."

Simon turned and looked at the man and tried to take him seriously, tried to feel something, fear, pity, compassion, anything except revulsion.  He couldn't do it.  "What makes you think I'd let you?"

The man laughed in Simon's face, letting a nauseating smell out of his mouth and displaying disgustingly inadequate dental work.  "Pretty boy like you ain't never fought, bet ya can't take a hit."

                "I'm not going stand hear while you try and scare me with _bao__ li," Simon said simply.  
                "Is that a challenge?" the man asked, a vicious glimmer in his eyes._

                "No," Simon answered plainly.  "It's a fact.  I don't care what you say or what you threaten, I'm not going to waste my time or energy on you."

                "Ya don't understand," the man said, pivoting so that he was standing directly in Simon's path.  "I ain't gonna stand for ya ta steal . . ." 

                "Kaylee is a grown woman who can make her own decisions," Simon said, forcing his voice to project over the disgusting man's.  He didn't realize it, but his shoulders were squared and his hands were in fists and his usually soft stormy-blue eyes had narrowed into slits. "If you have a problem with her behavior it might behoove you to discuss it with her, not with me.  I will never attempt to dictate her life to her, nor will I be intimidated into avoiding my friends. So, sir, if you are quite done demonstrating that you are an unashamed _lok__ chat, I would appreciate it if you could please leave me alone."_

                The man stared, shocked, at Simon for a moment.  But, before he could recover his brutish self, Mal's commanding voice drew the young doctor's attention away.  "Hey, Doc, Ya commin' or what?"

                "Yes, sir," Simon said, quickly stepping around his dumbfounded adversary and jogging to catch up with the rest of the _Serenity_'s crew.

                "What was that all about?" Mal asked once the doctor reached the rest of the party.

                "Nothing, sir," Simon said quickly.  "Just an old friend of Kaylee's."

                Kaylee's father, who was hosting the fishing expedition, chuckled.  "That weren't no friend, son, that there was Clinton Myers.  He's had a _bing_ crush on my daughter since they were kids.  'Cours she's smart enough ta see a crazy when he flirts with her."

                "Crazy, huh?" Jayne asked.  He was carrying a pile of fishing rods like he carried his shotgun, slung casually over his shoulder.  "What'd he say ta ya, Doc?"

                "Nothing important," Simon said cagily, taking the tackle box Mal handed him.  

                "He threaten you, Son?" Mal asked glancing over his shoulder at the now retreating form of Clinton Myers.

                Simon sighed; he didn't want to relive the discussion.  An ex-girlfriend had once told him that he turned into the biggest Jackass in the known universe every time he got assertive or aggressive or defensive.  She'd told him he was sarcastic, belittling, shaming, pretentious, and just downright unlikable.  Then, as he tried to defend himself he realized that he was being insufferably pertinacious as he sarcastically tried to belittle and shame her into taking back her observations.  At the end of that discussion neither of them liked Simon very much. She had the advantage though, she could leave.  And because Simon had no idea how to fix these character flaws he tried to avoid them, and when he couldn't do that he tried to ignore the fact that he'd displayed them, at least, as much as humanly possible. 

                "He wanted to know my intentions towards Kaylee," Simon answered.  

                "Boy might be a crazy, but he asks good questions," Mal said, a sort of mischievous glimmer in his eye.  "What are your intentions, Doc?"

                "My intentions?" Simon asked, wide-eyed.  He had no idea how to answer; he could barely believe he was being asked.  

                "That is a good question," Al said, laughing dryly.  This was a joke to them, Simon realized, he just had no clue which punch line wouldn't lead to him, well, being punched.  "What are your intentions to my daughter?"

                "We . . . well . . ." Simon stammered.

                "What's wrong, Doc?" Jayne laughed, "Don'cha know?"

                "Be kind, Jayne," Book said, "This isn't exactly an easy question to answer.  Any young man would be nervous when having to explain himself to a pretty girl's father, her captain, and her preacher."

                Simon sent a nearly-sinfully-angry glare at the preacher. Zoë Laughed out loud.

"Yeah," Jayne chuckled.  "I can see how that could be a little nerve racking," He chuckled again. "No pressure, Doc."

                Simon sighed. "I don't have any intentions towards Kaylee," he said, a little more defensively than he would have liked.  "I'm not scheming or plotting, or flirting, or anything.  I'm just . . . we're just . . . we're friends.  She's my friend."

                "Yeah," Jayne grunted.  "'Cause ya look at her the way people look at their friends."

                Simon felt himself blush, a harsh, sarcastic, belittling reply popped into his mind.  He literally had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at Jayne something, he was sure, would win him no points with Mr. Frye.

                "Preacher was right when he told ya ta be kind, Jayne," Mal asserted. "Doc was gracious enough ta answer the _huai__ hua question, no need ta make him feel the fool, well, more'n we already have." Mal, Jayne and Al laughed; Book and Zoë tried not to, but ended up just snickering.  Simon took a deep breath and told himself it didn't matter._

                "Don't worry, Son," Al said between laughs, slapping the doctor so hard on the back that Simon almost stumbled.  "I know my daughter well enough ta know that the question ain't what your intentions are ta her.  Question ought'a be what her intentions are ta you."

                Everyone started laughing again, and even Simon managed to smile and nod and breathe a little bit easier.  But as the conversation drifted, thankfully, away from him and onto less stressful topics, Simon couldn't help but wonder what, exactly, that was supposed to mean.  

*   *   *

                Gov. Comworth was busy reviewing the reports on the environmental impact of run-off on southern farmland from Newhope's vast salt mines.  It was a complicated, politically charged issue that impacted a good deal of the planet's population and needed to be dealt with quickly, decisively, and fairly, with minimal disruption to the citizens lives.  In short, it was the kind of engrossing problem that made Comworth wish he was not a governor and did not have any sort of power over people's lives. Therefore, it was not at all surprising when he snapped as his secretary poked his head into the governor's office.

                "What is it, Tripper?  I'm busy."

                "I know sir, but we've received an unusual transmission."

                "Transmission?" he grumbled, "From the High Command?"

                "No, sir, it's short range, very quiet, has to be coming from on the grounds."

                "Genie probably just . . ."

                "No, sir, I don't think it's one of her pranks.  It's very unusual."

                "Can't you find the source?"

                "No, sir, it's my understanding that the transmission is, ah, sort of echoing."

                "Echoing?"

                "It's been routed through the holographic art projectors.  It's showing up instead of the paintings.  I don't know how sir, we can't find the bandwidth but . . ."

                "Agh," Comworth grunted, "Let me see."

                The old man followed his secretary, a young man who would, undoubtedly in the future, turn into a prim and proper Alliance bureaucrat, through the outer office and to the hallways.   Instead of images of humankind's greatest artistic achievements, Gov. Comworth was greeted by streaming text that didn't make any sense.  They were Roman letters, but they weren't spelling any words, at least, not any words in any language that the Governor was familiar with.  Still, they seemed not to be random, there was definitely a type of pattern, although he couldn't see it, not standing in the middle of the hallway watching letters stream past him.  

                "Is this a continuous stream? Is the pattern repeating itself?"

                "Yes to both.  The maintenance worker tells me he could cut off the stream at any time, I just thought you should see it."

                "Yes," Comworth said, "Can we download it?"

                "Already done, sir," Tripper said, handing the Governor a computer pad with the text on it. "This is the entire message. It's already looped three times, so I don't think it'll change."

                "Well, tell Bester to cut the transmission, I want my art back.  And he should figure out where it came from, if that's not too much for his stunning mind."

                "I'll inform him of your wishes, sir," Tripper said, noting all of the Governor's orders on his own computer pad.  

                "And notify me immediately if any other such transmissions are received."

                "Yes, sir."

                "Good," Comworth said, nodding.  "I'm going back to my reports."

                And he did, for a few minutes.  But there was something about that message that bothered him.  He felt very strongly that he should be able to read it, that it shouldn't mystify him.  With a sigh of resignation, he pushed aside the reports and took up the pad.  The letters looked like utter nonsense; the first line, yaR revi.  Those weren't words, they weren't words backwards, they weren't words coded.  But then, as he scanned the document, he noticed that every other of the nonsense words began with ya.  "What if," he muttered, taking the first line and writing it with the ya removed.  R revi still didn't make much scence, neither did Rrevi, and neither did reviR.  Then it hit him.

                "_Shen__ di yu," he said, his throat suddenly becoming very dry.  "River."_

To Be Continued . . .


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: In which River and Kaylee flirt with varied results

"I love your hair, River," Katie, Kaylee's fourteen-year-old cousin said as she ran a horsehair brush through the long brown locks. "It's so pretty."

"It's just fabric," River said to Joanne, Kaylee's sixteen-year-old cousin, ignoring Katie and her observation all together. "It should be soft."

"Well, we're gonna stuff it with somethin'," Joanne said, taking the doll River had stitched together away from the girl. It wasn't very complicated, the body was made out of the scraps from an old apron, it was red with little white flowers on it and very, very soft from years of wear. A flour bag made up the bonnet and the baby's hands. Zoë's baby, Joanne was positive, would absolutely adore it.

River had never sewn a doll before. She'd never sewn anything before. She didn't know why, but this activity, Joanne had insisted, would be the most rewarding of all the many things they could do that day. Joanne had said that Jack wouldn't want to be around 'them girls' if they were sewing. River didn't know why anyone wouldn't want Jack around, but she didn't feel nearly confident enough to say so. It had turned out all right though, after much protesting from Joanne, Katie and Miriam (Kaylee's nine-year-old cousin), and an intervention by their mother where River was forced to make her opinions of the situation known: Jack was allowed to stay as long as he didn't get in the way. Much to Joanne's displeasure, he'd spent the entire afternoon totally out of the way, sitting in the windowsill whittling and observing as Joanne patiently showed River how to cut and pin and stitch.

"Not sand," River said. "Sand is little, little rocks. 'If your son asks for a loaf of bread, will you give him a stone'?"

"Oh-kay," Joanne said, glancing at Katie significantly. From across the room, Jack glared spitefully at his sisters. "What else we got?"

"Sawdust," River said, petting her little doll. "Heart and soul of wood. Living, breathing, growing."

"Good idea, River," Jack said before his sisters could throw each other more significant glances. "Uncle Collin's got loads a sawdust. That doll'll be soft as a baby bunny."

"But it won't bite," River said, glancing at Jack.

He smiled at her and chills she couldn't quite account for flew down her spine. It was an alarming yet very pleasurable experience. She wanted him to smile at her again. 

"You girls comin'?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, I guess," Joanne said as she stood up. She'd really wanted to be River's bosom friend, but Jack was stealing the new girl away. Perhaps it was for the best.  Joanne was starting to think that River must be totally loopy, in which case, she didn't really want to be her friend so much after all.

"I'm sorry," River said to Joanne softly as they followed Jack, who was showing off by walking nearly three feet above them on a rickety fence post, to Collin's workshop.

"You're sorry?" Joanne asked. "What did you do?"

"I don't know how to be your friend," River said. "You're mad."

"I'm not mad," Joanne gasped.

River looked at the girl, quizzically, "Yes, you are."

"How would you know what I feel?" Joanne practically screamed. "What, do you read minds or something?"

"I'm sorry," River said again, more than a little cowed by Joanne's violent overreaction. "The girls, they talk and they know the words to say and I lost the script, forgot my lines. Maybe they dug into my brain and they pulled them out, or maybe they were just never learned to start with. It's blurry."

Joanne starred at River absolutely horrified. "What the hell . . ."

"I'm sorry," River said again. "If you lend me a script I'll read off it. I can memorize real fast."

"I . . ." Joanne said. "I think my mom's calling me."

"No, she's not," River offered helpfully.  
"Yeah, I think she is," Joanne insisted. "She's calling all us girls. You can stay with Jack."

"All, all right," River said softly. She'd been lied to before, she didn't know why this particular lie made her feel so bad, like she was stupid and silly and just not good enough.

"Katie, Miri, come on," Joanne ordered. The girls looked at their older sister curiously, but followed her lead as she turned and started heading back towards their house. 

River heard a thud as Jack jumped from his precarious position on the fence post and landed slightly behind her. "I really am sorry," River said. "I want to be fixed but they took a way the tools."

Jack laughed, but not meanly. "You're really different."

"I'd like to be the same," River said honestly. "But I've never matched."

"The same is boring," Jack said, scrunching his nose. "Joanne's the same as every other girl in this town and she's boring."

"She's not like Kaylee," River observed. "Kaylee's from this town."

"Kaylee was different too," Jack said, slipping his hand into hers and, with that leverage, turning them both back towards his Uncle Collin's. "Now come on, we wanna finish that doll ta give ta your friend Zoë, don' we?"

"You don't think I'm crazy?" River asked, not defensively but rather curiously.

"'Cours you're crazy," Jack laughed. "Crazy wonderful."

"That, that doesn't . . ." River began.

"I mean," Jack went on, "The way ya danced last night, and the way you talk and the way you do, well, everythin', it's all different from everybody else. It's all crazy, but it's all pretty wonderful too."

River stared at the boy, overwhelmed by how earnestly he meant everything he'd just said. For the first time in her life she didn't have a thing to say. Even since the Academy, since she'd become confused, she'd still had something to say, regardless of whether or not anyone else understood. But now, looking at Jack's very deep brown eyes, she was dumbstruck.

"Hey, there, kids!" Wash said, drawing Jack's attention and startling River so badly that she screeched, stumbled back a few steps and finally took a somewhat defensive position behind Jack. 

"He's a tattle-tale," She whispered harshly into the boy's ear. "He'll tell the big people and we'll have our tongues cut out."

"It's ok, River," Wash said, holding his hands up as if to prove they weren't blue. "I promise not to tell anyone anything that will lead to your tongue being cut out," the pilot couldn't help but wince at the thought.

Jack, as soon as he got over the initial shock of hearing her scream, and his brain had processed what exactly it was she'd said, laughed. "You're such a nut," he said playfully.

"You think I'm joking," River said, a little defensively.

"Well," Jack asked, his smile slipping just a little, "Ain't cha?"

"Of course she is," Wash quickly said, stepping forward and pulling River out from behind the boy. She moved jerkily, like a marionette or a rag doll, but without a struggle. "That's just what we call her up on the ship, crazy, joking River."

"You don't . . ." The girl started softly, looking up at Wash with a curious expression that reminded him very much of Simon.

"You two look so good together," Wash said, overpowering the girl's protests as he deposited River right next to Jack. "Like one of those old pictures, you know?"

"Why not a newish picture?" Jack asked.

"Well I guess you guys look like one a them too," Wash replied a little deflated. "Just old ones are, ya know, quainter." Neither Jack nor River seemed entirely taken by Wash's arguments. He switched tracks. "Where you two headed?"

"Collin' an' Margie's," Jack said. "River's gonna stuff the doll she made with sawdust."

"You made a doll?" Wash asked. "Can I see it?"

"It's for the baby," River said, shoving her left hand, which had been holding the doll since they left Jack's home, behind her back. "It's a surprise."

"You can show it to me," Wash insisted, "The baby'll still be surprised."

"Go on," Jack insisted, nudging the girl encouragingly with his elbow, "Show 'im."

Timidly, River raised the floppy construction up for Wash to examine. 

"River, this is adorable," Wash said, his voice sounded surprised, as if he half expected the girl to sew a doll with too many arms or a horribly misshapen head. "And you're gonna put saw dust in it?"

The girl nodded.

"Neat," He said, handing the doll back to River. "I promise not to tell Zoë about it."

"We don't need to surprise Zoë," River said softly. "We need to surprise the baby."

"I don't see that as being too hard," Wash muttered, then added, "Why don't you take my advice and just keep it a secret from Zo? I'll tell you when ta give it to her."

River turned to Jack and whispered in his ear, clearly not wanting Wash to know her thoughts: "Is that a good idea?" 

"Yeah," Jack said, smiling back at her. "Probably. I don't know 'bout baby stuff."

"Ok," River said, eyeing Wash shrewdly. "I'll trust you. But if you tell the big people . . ."

"Not really an issue," Wash assured her, once more demonstrating that his hands were not blue in the least. "Hey, I won't even tell Simon."

"Simon," River said, her brow wrinkling, "Why would you?"

"I, ah," Wash said a little awkwardly. "I wouldn't."

*   *   *

"Yeah, yeah," Kaylee grunted as she pushed herself out from under the R-8-30 engine.  "That's what'll happen when ya drive a hover boat on land.  Ain't ment ta go over lumps, just nice smooth water."

                "But can ya fix it, Kay?" Henderson Ringwood asked, leaning down so that their faces were pretty much parallel.  

                "I could," Kaylee said, pushing herself into a sitting position.  "But I don't much see the point.  Your just gonna break it again."

                "Swear I won't," Henderson said, putting his hand over his chest and holding his arm up.  "Swear on the Holy Bible."

                Kaylee sighed. "Ya know, I wouldn't even be doin' this 'cept I love your hover boat so much.  It's too good a machine for an old loser like you."

                "Yeah," Henderson said softly from low in his throat.  

                "'Sides the 'bout thirty rips ya got on the pad here," Kaylee said pushing herself up and away from the hover boat, "your equalizer's shot.  And I can't just fix it, it's been rerouted and cross wired so many times that there ain't hardly nothin' left."

                "You oughtn't a gone on that ship, Kay," Henderson said, out of the blue.

                "What?" Kaylee slurred, turning her head, only vaguely aware of what he'd said.  

                "You should have stayed here, Kay," Henderson asserted, stepping closer to her.  "The town misses you."

                "And I miss the town," Kaylee said, sweeping a loose wisp of hair behind her ears.  "Ain't nothin' so nice as comin' home."

                "Ya should stay," Henderson said, taking yet another step forward. "Town ain't the same without cha."

                "That ain't true," Kaylee laughed, a little nervously, turning back to the hover boat so she could pretend to examine it further.  "I get waves from my folks.  All the same people doin' all the same things."

                "Well, it don't feel the same," Henderson said, taking still another step closer.  

She could practically feel his breath on her neck.  It was annoying, he was annoying.  He was the boy next door, literally, and she may have liked him when she was younger, when her world was smaller, but now she looked at him and couldn't help but see a cocky hick who liked not having to learn anything new, not having to try anything different, not having to suffer, even a little, regardless of the pay off.  "Get back, Henderson," Kaylee growled over her shoulder, "We ain't like that, haven't been for a long time."

                "Seein' ya again Kay," he said, putting his hand's on her waist, pressing his body inappropriately close to her.  "It's makin' me crazy.  I didn't know what I was missin' 'till it was gone." 

                "And I didn't know what I was lakin' 'till I hade it," Kaylee said forcefully, turning herself around and grabbing Henderson's wrists so she could pull them off her waist.  

                "What would that be?" Henderson asked seductively, clearly not reading her mood.

                Kaylee opened her mouth to tell him that she'd found a big, wonderful universe full of people who were smart enough to take care of their hover boats, and clever enough to see when a girl wasn't interested, and kind enough to not try and rekindle old flames, especially when they were the ones to dump water on the fire in the first place so they could chase after a pretty blond girl from across town who was three years younger.  That's exactly what she was going to say, but she didn't.  Because as soon as she opened her mouth, she saw Simon poke his head around the door and into the workshop.  His mouth was open, as if he has been about to say something, probably call her to dinner, but what he saw chased all those words from his mind.  He just stood there, wide eyed, slack jawed, trying to think of what to do next.    

                "Simon," Kaylee said, pushing herself away from Henderson and running over to the doctor, who'd finally managed to take a deep breath, close his mouth, and blush.

                "I, ah, I didn't realize . . ." he stuttered, taking a few steps back, away from the door.  "If, if you were . . ."

                "He's an old friend," Kaylee tried to explain as Simon continued to inch away from her.

                "A friend?"  
                "Just a friend," Kaylee said.  "I mean, we were once . . . but now, now he's . . . he's not even a friend.  I was doin' him a favor 'cause I like his boat."

                "His boat?" Simon laughed bitterly.  "What kind of favor?"

                "Fixin' it" Kaylee explained.

                "Fixing his boat?" Simon nodded, his voice squeaked a little.

                "No," Kaylee gasped, exasperated.  "The hover boat, idiot don't know enough ta keep it on the water.  And don't you go findin' innuendo in that!"

                Simon looked at her, a muscle in his jaw twitching a little.  She thought he looked hurt and frustrated and a little angry.  She wanted to walk up to him and squeeze his arm and ask 'what's the matter baby?' but she knew that would only make things worse.  Besides, she knew what was the matter was.

                "You're mother wants you," he said stoically staring at her.  "Dinner's almost ready; she needs you to . . ." he faltered a little, his eyes drifting to the ground.  "She didn't say why she needed you.  She just wanted me to let you know."

                "Right," Kaylee sighed.  She didn't even turn to say goodbye to Henderson, who had gotten as far as he was going to get on the virtue of owning and neglecting a hover boat.  She pushed past Simon in a huff and started heading towards the back of her house where the long tables were set up for yet another community dinner.  She'd gone nearly five paces before she realized that she wasn't being followed.  "Ain't cha comin'?" She demanded, spinning around, her loose whips of hair falling right in the middle of her face in the most annoying way.

                "I was going to go find River," Simon said, a little tersely, "If that's all right."

                "River'll be at dinner," Kaylee practically yelled.  "You've been away from her all day, I don't think couple more minutes is gonna kill either a ya."

                "Forgive me for caring about my severely traumatized sister," Simon snapped.

                "I do," Kaylee replied.  "All the time!"

                Simon looked at her, his eyes were cold and hard and unmistakably hurt.  But he didn't yell, he just shook his head and sighed before turning and walking away.  Kaylee felt suddenly cold.  

                "Stupid Simon," Kaylee muttered as she turned back to her house.  "Assumes stuff, don't ask, obsessed with crazy River.  Might as well run back ta Henderson, least he likes me right now."  But then, Simon did like her, he'd said as much, while he was sober nonetheless.  And he'd said more too.  She could remember, very clearly, him saying 'I respect you.'  That was something that none of the boys in town or the men that had come to port had ever told her.  Simon was the only one who saw in her something that deserved respect, and she knew enough about men, and about herself, to know just how much that was worth.

                "Stupid Simon," she said again, wiping hot tears out of the corners of her eyes with her jumpsuit before she reached the yard and her mother could see that she'd been crying, or at least been almost crying.  "Stupid, stupid Simon."

To Be Continued . . .


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: In which several stories are told

                "And so," Shepherd Book said, gasping for breath as was most of his audience, between laughs.  "We finally got the fish in the boat and by this time, Mr. Frye, Cap'n Reynolds and Zoë were beside themselves with laughter over in the other boat, but we were all soaking wet and, frankly, pretty mad at each other."

                The table burst into laughter, with the exception of Jayne, who said, "Still are."

                "But the fish," Book said, drawing the audience back from their mad laughter.  "It wasn't dead.  And none of us had gone fishin' for this, so we weren't aware that it can sometimes take quite a while for a fish ta die if you don't kill it right out."

                The table continued in its near hysterics. Kaylee had to wipe tears from her eyes and gasp for breath.  Wash laughed so hard he thought he was going to faint. Zoë and Mal kept exchanging glances, snickering about how the story would end. Even Simon, who hadn't enjoyed the events which were being recounted, managed to smile and laugh.  Jayne alone didn't see the humor.

                "So we just sort of stood there, trying to keep our balance in this boat with this huge fish flopping around and Simon was trying to calculate how long the fish could survive out of water given and oxygen intake and force exerted as it flopped around and I was trying to untangle myself from the fishing line and then Jayne," Book gasped and struggled to compose himself as he pressed on with the story.  By now Mal and Al were laughing so hard at the memory that they couldn't possibly be listening and Simon's snickers had turned into actual laughter.  Jayne still didn't find the situation at all amusing.

                "Jayne," Book said. "Jayne, he . . .he pulled out his revolver and he said, he said, 'I can fix this' and, and he shot the fish's head right off."

                The table erupted into his strongest bout of laughter yet, "No," Book insisted, "No, it gets better, the fish was still moving, twitching ya know, so he shoots it again, and then again!"

                The table was roaring.

                "Damn fish wouldn't die," Jayne muttered in weak defense of himself.  Wash, who was sitting next to Jayne and was the only one to hear it, laughed so hard that he sprayed water all over his plate.

                "Y'all right there, honey?" Zoë chuckled.

                Wash was laughing to hard to answer her; he just waved at her with his napkin and nodded.

                "So, Simon reaches over and pulls Jayne's gun down, and the fish, it's pretty dead, still twitchin' and what not, but not floppin' like it was so we all settle down right and get back to the fishing.  Well, about a minute later I notice this puddle of water at my feet.  We'd been so preoccupied with the fish that we hadn't even realized Jayne'd shot holes in the bottom of the boat!  It was sinking!"

                The table, once again, burst into uncontrollable laughter.  The party was almost calmed down enough for the Shepherd to tell the next part of the story, which involved the three men swimming haphazardly to shore, when a high-pitched, terror-filled, entirely-too-close, scream interrupted him.

                "What was that?"  Kaylee said, gasping a little as she tried to overcome her laughter.

                "Where's River?" Simon asked, scanning the table for the first time since Book had started his long and hilarious retelling of the afternoon's events.  

                "Your sister?" Hubert asked.  "She went off with Jack a bit ago."

                "_Ma zi song xie sha zi," Simon muttered, pushing himself awkwardly away from the table and running in the direction the scream had come from.  He didn't notice that Mal, Kaylee, Book, Hubert and his wife, and a couple other assorted Fryes were following him. They ran back into the edges of the large yard, where there was the beginning of a small forest that dipped into a gully with a peaceful stream.  It was a wonderful place for young people who didn't want to be around adults, yet didn't have the confidence to stray to far.  There was enough privacy for all manors of mischief but still within earshot of the house.  _

                The group found Jack running up the gully, right at the place where the yard met the trees.

                "I didn't do anything!" the boy said, before anyone could ask.  "I swear, I just, we just . . . it was innocent."

                "What happened," Simon demanded, "Where's River?"

                "She ran off, she freaked," Jack said.  "I thought she liked me, I mean, I didn't think she'd get so spooked, I'm really, really sorry."

                "Son, what did you do?" Mal demanded, pushing his way through the crowd.

                "I kissed her," Jack admitted, quickly adding.  "It wasn't dirty or mean or anything, just a kiss, a peck.  I mean, I really thought that  . . . she was holding my hand and we weren't going to . . ."  
                "Which way'd she run?" Simon asked, too afraid for his sister to care what set her off.

                "North east, long the stream," The boy said, pointing.  Simon immediately started to stumble down the hill in the direction Jack had indicated, Book and Mal following.

                "Jack," Kaylee said, not unkindly.  "Why didn't ya go after her?"

                "I didn't wanna scare her more," Jack said.  "Honest, I didn't do anythin' bad.  And I'm real sorry, I'll apologize and everything."

                "What happened?" Zoë asked, as she, Wash, Jayne and most of the rest of Kaylee's family caught up with them.

                "I didn't do anything," Jack said imploringly again.

                "He tried ta kiss her and River got spooked," Kaylee explained to the rapidly growing crowd.  Then turning to her cousin, she said, "Don't worry, River's a very special girl, but she ain't quite right."

                "Nuttier than a peanut butter factory," Jayne interjected.  

                Kaylee glared at him, then turned back to Jack.  "I'm sure ya did nothin' wrong.  We'll just wait until they come back and maybe you'll be able ta patch it up with River."

                Jack nodded, trying to take Kaylee's word for it, but obviously feeling very rotten about the whole thing.  

                "Well, all right," Nora said loudly, "Ain't nothin' ta be done here.  Them men'll bring back River soon enough. Come along."

                The crowd started filing back towards the house, Jack and Kaylee lagging behind, trailing at the end of the group.  

                "I'm really sorry," Jack said, glancing behind him at the shadowy forest.  "I didn't mean nothin' wrong, really.  I though that's what she .  . . I mean, she's just . . ."

                "Yeah," Kaylee laughed, throwing her arm around her cousin's shoulders and hugging him affectionately as they walked back towards the house.  "They're both like that.  It'll be fine."

*   *   * 

                "River!" Simon called, running along the side of the gully, trying not to fall into the little stream.  "River!" 

                "River!" Book echoed, "Sweetie, where are you?!"  
                "_Ben dan nu sheng mi huo gaun yu qin gai!" Mal spat.  "Where is that rutting sister a yours Doc?"_

                "I don't know," Simon said.  The boy sounded almost sick with worry. 

Mal decided not to ask him any more questions, instead he joined the other's in yelling; "River!" 

                They tromped through the forest for nearly ten minutes before Book saw her.  She was about twenty yards away sitting in the middle of the stream, her knees to her chest and her back to them.  

                "River!" Simon shouted, relief resounding in his voice as he ran lumberingly towards her slight form.  

                Mal and Book joined the doctor in his charge, but Mal couldn't help but feel that the fact she hadn't even turned to look at them was a bad sign.  As soon as he reached his sister Simon fell to his knees in the stream in front of her, but instead of reaching out to comfort her, like he always did, he just stared at her in horrified shock for a moment.  When Mal reached them, he saw why.

                River's hands were covered with blood, which was streaming out of a series of cuts on her forearms.  She was muttering to her self, "Bad girl, bad bad girl. Eve tempted Adam and they were all damned.  Damn, damn bad girl goes to hell.  You burn and the devil laughs, everyone laughs at the bad, bad girl."  And as she muttered she stabbed her arms, drawing blood with every slash of a very sharp gray stone she must have found in the streambed.   

                "River stop!" Mal yelled, grabbing the girl's wrist and pulling her up while twisting her arm and forcing her to drop the bloody stone.  "What the hell you think you're doing?"

"I was bad," River said, gasping from surprise.  Tears had started streaming down her cheeks.  "Physical affection is inappropriate, superfluous, a waist of potential." She seemed almost in a trance, like she was reciting something she'd been forced to learn, true meaning of her words seemed lost on her.  

                "What the name of _fei__ gan xing hou do you think you are doing, _shen___ tong?"  Mal demanded again, a little more forcefully.  _

                "It has to stop. It can't happen again," River sobbed, "She has to be punished.  Punish the bad, bad girl."

                "River, no," Simon said, finally finding his voice as he stood up.  "You don't have to be punished."

                "But I do," She said, looking at her brother sadly over her shoulder, "I do, I do."

                "Should we be concerned about her arms?" Book said, interjecting himself rather awkwardly into the tense moment.  "Could she bleed . . .?"

                "No," Simon said a little sharply, stepping towards his sister and reaching out for her.  Mal relinquished his grip warily.  The last thing he wanted was for her to slip out of her brother's arms, dive for the rock and start cutting on herself again.

                "These wounds are just superficial," Simon said, stroking his sister's arms gently as she stood shaking and sobbing.   "It's all right, _mei_ mei_," he told her softly, maneuvering so that he could look her in her downcast eyes.  "You didn't do anything wrong or bad.  We'll go back to Kaylee's house and I'll bandage you up and everything will be all right."_

                The girl looked at him and laughed softly.  "You don't know."

                "Then tell me," Simon insisted.  

                She shook her head, "You don't . . ."

                "Tell me," Her brother said forcefully, but not unkindly.  "Please, River, tell me."

                The girl blinked a few times, and then nodded.

_"Seems I pay for each transgression,_

_Victim of another's scheme,_

_Every growth becomes recession,_

_Every cry for joy, a scream.___

_Longing, look I for a lesson;_

_Facts are never what they seem,_

_So I struggle for possession_

_Of myself, of what I dream._

_Lost forever is a something,_

_Wish I knew just what they took,_

_What they left is worthless suff'ring_

_Truth is, I'm afraid to look._

Feel my soul is leaking, less'ning 

_River's now a babbling brook."_

                After a very long, very heavy silence, Simon managed to pull his sister into a protective hug, "Oh, _mei_ mei_," he sighed.  It was obvious that he was trying very hard not to cry._

                "Was that a poem about her?" Mal asked.  "Did she write it?"

                "Come on," Simon said softly.  He'd found his composure and started leading his bloody sister away, back towards Kaylee's family's house.

                Book and Mal gave the siblings a good start before following.

                "That poor girl," the shepherd said softly.  "The road ahead of her is going to be very difficult."

                "That may be, preacher," Mal said.  "But the truth of the matter is that she's lucky to have a road ahead of her at all."

*   *   *

                "This is very important mission for me, personally," Gov. Comworth told his first lieutenant Christopher McMeal in their unofficial meeting.  So unofficial that Comworth felt it was necessary to intrude into the lieutenant's private quarters late at night.  "These children mean the world to me and there is every reason for you to be discreet when collecting them."

                "Of course, sir."

"He won't want to come," The Governor said, taping on the picture of Simon and River Tam that was lying on the table between them.  In this picture River was about fourteen, with her hair done up in curls and her face painted, wearing her best blue satin dress.  She was facing the photographer, smiling, beaming, but her eyes were on Simon, to her right.  He was standing, staring straight ahead, smiling with a sort of modest pride as he held his diploma showing he'd graduated from medacade with honors.   

"Chose your team wisely," Comworth continued, regrouping his thoughts. "If either of them is hurt you'll pay dearly for it, and if this mission leaks out it will be all our skins, is that clear?"

                "Of course, sir,"

                "Good," the governor said, pushing himself away from the table and standing. "You will leave as soon as you're team is assembled.  I expect them here by this time tomorrow night."

                "Of course, sir," the lieutenant snapped again, standing out of respect.  

                "Good," the older man said, nodding and looking once more at the picture on the table. "Good, I know I can depend on you."

"Sir," McMeal asked, tentatively. "My I ask you a question?" 

                The governor looked up and smiled, which was a good sign.  "I make no promises about answering it, but go ahead."

                "Who are these children?"

                Comworth looked down at the photo again; it was his favorite picture of the children.  It was a few years old but he felt it captured who they were.  No matter what happened, for better or for worse, Simon would always be the modestly proud brother and River the dreamy eyed adoring sister.  "They are siblings, who have found themselves in a very, very difficult position.  I am trying to protect them." He finally said.

                "I understand that, sir," McMeal insisted.  "But who are they, to you, sir? Why do you care so much?"

                "The boy, Simon," the Governor said, clearing his throat as he turned away and made ready to leave. "He's my godson."

*   *   *

                "I'm sorry," River said, her voice was hoarse from sobbing and screaming, her eyes were bloodshot and scratchy from crying and she couldn't stop breathing in uneven gasps. 

                "It's all right," Simon said softly, setting the rag he'd been using to clean her arm back in its bowl of warm water and picking up the tube of anti-bacterial, pain-killing, blood-clotting cream.  It smelled like menthol and had always made Simon a little nauseous as a child.  As he used the cream so often during his time in the ER it got so that he didn't even smell its sticky-sweet alcohol sent.  But for some reason as he squeezed a dollop of the white cream into his hand he felt almost overwhelmingly queasy.

"I won't see Jack again," she offered, hoping some way to make it up to her perfect, long-suffering brother.  "I thought he was a quite pool but then we kissed and it was like a waterfall and I got swept over the edge and cut myself on the sharp rocks." 

"I know," Simon said, his voice tight.

"I'll never see any boy ever again."

                "That's, that's not what I want from you, _mei_ mei_," He said, glancing up at her quickly, before turning his focus again to her scarred arms, running his warm hands gently from her elbow to her wrists. "That's not what I want for you, either."_

                "Tell me what you want," River begged.  "I want to obey, I want to be good.  I'm so sorry."

                "River," Simon said.  "You didn't disobey, you weren't bad."

                "I was," River insisted.  "You're trying to be kind, make me feel better, but you shouldn't.  I needed to be punished."

                "Give me your other arm," Simon said, his voice strained and just a little trembely.  His eyes were focused on the tube as he squeezed out another glob of the white goo.  He was blinking furiously.

                "Tell me Simon," River said begged.  "Your thoughts are drowning you, you can't breath and there's water leaking out of your eyes."

                "It's the cream," Simon said, taking her wrist gently and rubbing the cream up and down her other arm.  "You know it makes me sick."

                River reached up with her free hand and petted her brother's face.  "Fear and sorrow make you sick," she said, smiling at him.  "The cream's a scapegoat.  Hurry, soon you'll be sinking beneath the waves."

                "I don't know what to tell you," Simon admitted, turning his full attention to rescrewing the cap onto the tube of cream so that he wouldn't have to look at her arms.  "Don't ever cut yourself like that again seems flawed in its simplicity. But I should tell you something, I should, I should have some sort of . . ."

"I hurt you more, didn't I?" River asked softly, her hand dropping.  

                "More than what?" 

                "I cut my arms," River said, leaning in closer, whispering.  "I cut your heart."

                Simon pulled away from her, took a deep breath, and cleared his throat "Your, your arms are. . . ."

                "They'll heal," River said, a little angrily.  "Punishment, you have to learn something."

                Simon closed his eyes, took a deep breath and scraped together his courage.  "_Mei_ mei_," he said in his kindest, gentlest voice as he reached up and stroked her soft, tear-soaked cheek with his knuckles, "let me decide if you need to be punished from now on, ok?"_

                "You wouldn't do it," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling it down to her lips.  Her dark brown eyes sought out his and Simon's breath caught in his throat.  He had to blink to find his voice again.

                "Promise me you'll never punish yourself again, River," Simon said very seriously.  

                "She can't make promises," River said. "They'll make sure she doesn't keep them."

                Simon looked at her for a moment, his broken heart clearly visible in his eyes before he eventually nodded, "Right."

River watched as he turned to wipe the excess cream of his hands on the wet cloth, "Right," He muttered again.  She'd been scared, when Jack kissed her, and a little guilty, and extremely exhilarated, which, for some reason she'd never understand, made her feel guiltier still.  She didn't know why she did what she did, but physical pain seemed the only way to burn off the guilt.  Catharsis was the only door she saw open.  But now, as Simon was forcing himself not to look at her arms and his usual bafflement spiraled down into broken-heartedness, she wished for all the 'verse that she'd never found the sharp rock.

                "I'm sorry," River said again, she knew it was the wrong thing to say but it was all she had.               Simon turned to her and forced a smile, "I know you are."

                "What should I do?"

                Simon took a deep breath and shook his head.  "I don't know."

                "I thought you knew everything," River said meekly as more large tears started rolling down her cheeks.  "I need you to know everything." 

                "Shhhh," Simon soothed, moving so that he was sitting next to her and could wrap his arms around her slight, trembling frame and talk softly into her ear.  "Shhhh, I do know some things.  I know that you are a very pretty, very sweet girl who probably liked that a boy was paying attention to her."

                River sniffled and nodded.

                "And I know that there's nothing wrong with that," Simon said.  "In fact, those feelings are about as normal as feelings can be."

                River chuckled softly, "Joanne an' I could match."

                Simon ignored the seemingly nonsensical comment and kept talking in his soothing, kindly way.  "But I also know that you're confused.  And that's not your fault.  You have to decide whether or not you want Jack's attention, and all those confusing feeling that come with, or not.  And you have to deal with the consequences of that decision, one way or another."

                River turned to look at her brother, her red-rimmed eyes were, for the moment, dry, "And I have to not cut myself."

                "Yeah," Simon chuckled a little sadly, "You have to not cut yourself.  You think you can do that?"

                River thought for a second and then nodded, forcing a soft smile for her brother.

                "Good," Simon said, smiling down at her, "I'm proud of you, _mei__ mei."_

                "_Wo__ ai ni, xiong zhang," River said, burring her head in her brother's chest._

                Simon planted a kiss on the top of her head in the mess of brown hair, "I love you too," he muttered. "_Da_ dai_."_

*   *   *

"Gabe, dear," Regan Tam said somewhat spontaneously, shattering the silence as they drove home from a very lively, yet refined, dinner party with Senator Hector Bullox. "I received a surprising wave today."

"Did you?" Gabriel asked, forcing his voice to sound interested.

"Yes, I meant to tell you earlier, it was from Regina Comworth."

"Reginald's daughter, no, granddaughter?"

"That's the one," Regen said, she didn't add 'River's old friend', but she thought it. "She invited us out to Newhope."

"Really?" Gabriel asked. This was obviously going to be a conversation; he cleared his throat. "How charming."

"She said she'd love to show us around the world before she was shipped off to the core."

"What a little darling."

"She said her grandfather would pay our fare."

"That's very generous of Reginald."

There was a very long pause before Regan found the courage to say. "I want to go."

"What?" Gabriel laughed casually, turning to look at his wife, very amused.

"I would really like to go," Regan said with some more confidence. "It's the off season here; you've been working very hard . . . of late."

"It's been busy."

"Please, Gabriel, let's go," She was practically begging now. "What possible harm can come of it?"

"You'll turn into a blubbering fool," her husband snapped, far more meanly than he meant to. 

"Well I think I have a right to," Regan said, just as viciously. "My children . . ."

"I know all about what happened to your children!" Gabriel yelled, before she could say a word more. "They were my children as well! I think some times you forget!"

"I'm going!" Regan said. "I want to see Regina and I want to speak face to face with Reginald, and I want to go someplace new so that I don't hear the echoes of my children's laughter in every damn room! And I want you to come with me because you are my husband and I know they were your children and I know you hear those damning echoes as loudly as I do."

There was another very heavy, very long, very audible pause in the conversation.

Gabriel broke the silence by clearing his throat again, "You're right. We'll go."

"Good," Regan quipped, taking a deep breath and wiping the slight dampness in the corners of her eyes away with her pinky finger. "We leave tomorrow at eight a.m., express flight. Two day's hence we'll relaxing with Reginald and his granddaughter at their lovely villa."

"Wonderful," Gabriel harrumphed.

To Be Continued . . .


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: In which Simon has to think about things he doesn't want to over and over again

SUNDAY

                "Hey," Kaylee called from across the yard.  

                Simon glanced up and was about to call back but his voice got caught in his throat.  He didn't manage to find it until she ran up to him.  Her hair was pulled up in a series of pink ribbons and braids, she was warring her teal kimono to keep of the slight early fall chill, a pretty pink shirt Simon had seen her wear a hundred times, and the most flattering denim jumper the boy'd ever seen.  Of course, truthfully, it was the only denim jumper he'd ever seen.  

                "Kaylee," he finally managed to say as she reached them.  "You're in a dress."

                "Yeah," the girl said, beaming. She was also wearing makeup, nothing much, but her eyes seemed bigger and her lips shimmered.   "Ya like it, my ma sewed it together fer me," She said playing with the pink ribbon lacing down the front.

                "It's adorable," Simon said, finally coming to himself.  "I can't think of any time . . . You look very pretty."

                "Thank you," She said, "I gotta say that you and River are lookin' quite dapper yourselves.  Dressed up for the service?"

                "Ah yes," Simon said, glancing at River who'd been lent one of Joanne's long black skirts to go with her pain yellow shirt.  Her hair was also tied back with a slip of yellow ribbon borrowed form Miriam.  He'd dug out a suit coat and managed to find a clean white shirt.  He didn't really understand why people dressed up for church, but today he was not going to let lack of understanding hinder his observance.  "Everybody was going and we . . . ah . . . came too."

                "Ya know, Shepard Book was asked ta preach," Kaylee said.  "Don't know how many time's I've called him preacher and I ain't once heard him give a true sermon."

                "That is," Simon stuttered, "Um, ironic."

                "Guess we'll get ta see if he's any good with it."

                Simon nodded.  As pretty as Kaylee was, and as much as he loved looking at her, and as much as he usually was able to, quite easily talk to her, he found himself on this particularly brisk Sunday morning, unable to find a word to say.  

He was very nervous about the church service; he hadn't been to one since River was baptized. And he was nervous about River, he could hear most of the godly, upstanding church members mutter as they passed him and his sister and by the way her eyes darted from spot to spot on the ground, he was pretty sure she could hear those mutterings too.  The town was too small and the Frye family was too big for what had happened between Jack and River to have stayed privet.  And he was ashamed that he was nervous because, he honestly believed, being afraid of a church service was about as silly as being afraid of bunny rabbits.  Besides which, not going to see his friend and shipmate preach would have been extremely rude.  

He desperately wished that he, like Mal, could have ignored the tolling of the church bells in this small town on moral grounds.  Mal refused to go to services because he was furious at God for abandoning him, no one thought the less of him for it.  Simon's excuse, however, was more along the lines of "I just never really found it necessary" which lead to a long discourse on the sin-nature of man and the mortal sin of arrogance.  

                Thankfully, before the silence became too awkward, the threesome was intruded upon by a fourth person.  She was very pretty, about Kaylee's age.  Tall and thin as a stick, she had long black hair and shallow brown eyes.  "Well, Kaylee Frye, _bao__ bei," She said, sweetly, putting her hand on Kaylee's shoulder.  "Imagine my surprise ta see you here."_

                "Why'd ya be surprised, Peggy?" Kaylee asked defensively.  "It's Sunday, I'm at church."

                "Well, it's just," Peggy said, glancing at Simon as if he'd surely take her side in the argument.  "We all know how you got off the planet."

                "On a ship?" Kaylee asked.  

                "That's pretty much the only way to leave any planet," Simon observed, hoping to be supportive. He had no idea what was going on between these two girls, but he could recognize a snob when he saw one: the benefit, he mused, of an aristocratic childhood.

                "Now who's this, then?" Peggy asked.  "It's not Bester?"

                "You know it ain't," Kaylee said.  "And ya probably already know just who he is."

                "But you'll still introduce me?" Peggy asked.

                Kaylee sighed; Simon wished he hadn't said anything.  "This here's Simon Tam and his sister, River."

                "Pleased ta meet you," Peggy said, offering Simon her hand.  

He shook it warily, "I'm sure the pleasure's mine," he lied.

                "And this is River."

                "Oh," Peggy laughed, shooting a knowing glance at Simon.  "So this is River Tam."

                "What do you mean?" Simon asked abruptly.

                "Excuse me?" Peggy said, putting her hand on her somewhat unimpressive chest.

                "You said that like, like . . ." Simon couldn't quite find the words, Kaylee, however, could.

"Like she was a joke or something," the mechanic said, taking an aggressive step forward.  She looked like she was about to throw a punch in defense of River's reputation.  Simon had never admired any other woman more than he admired Kaylee that moment.

                "I'm sorry," Peggy said.  "I just heard about what happened with her and Jack last night."

                "What did you hear?" Kaylee demanded.  "Gossip?"

                "Word spreads."

                "It don't have to," Kaylee insisted.  "'For you come up here ta try and shame me outta this church, you ought'a look at yourself and see if you ain't gotten a little pleasure outta doin' something a little wrong."

                "You can't compare a little talk with being a trollop," Peggy said.

                "I never hurt nobody," Kaylee said honestly.  "And I never, never, pretend ta be good and godly while doin' something damnable and dirty." 

                "Hum," Peggy said, turning around and heading into the church, where the first few bars of 'Fount of Every Blessing' were being pounded on an old piano, interrupting countless interesting conversations.  "I suppose on Judgment day God will vindicate the righteous."

                "Look forward to it," Kaylee smiled.

                "Pride is a sin you know," Peggy said.

                "One with which, I'm sure, you are well acquainted," Simon said.  "It was nice meeting you."

                With another brisk "hum" Peggy turned around and entered the church.  By now, Kaylee, Simon and River were the only three outside of the whitewashed doors.

                "Come on," Kaylee said, grabbing Simon's arm.  "Jack saved us all seats near the back, 'case River, ah . . ."

                "Wonderful," Simon said, smiling at Kaylee.  She looked so amazing.  Still he had to turn his head and look away: "River, come on."

                "Do we get to sing?" the girl asked excitedly, jogging a few steps to catch up with her brother.  

                "As long as you sing the correct words to the song," Simon said.  "I don't care how clever or funny or theologically accurate your substitutions are.  Shepherd Book may not care anymore, but we're guests here, we need to be polite."

                "Yes, Simon," she muttered, disappointed but obedient.

*   *   *

                The first twenty minutes of the service were more horrible than Simon would have thought possible.  River didn't sing the wrong lyrics; instead, after every hymn she leaned over to him and explained (not terribly quietly despite his shushing) what her improvements would have been.  Jack found this habit extremely entertaining and laughed at just about everything she said, which only encouraged her.  Simon could have dealt with the embarrassment produced by River; she was, after all, not really aware of her actions.  However, his own ignorance as to the procedures and traditions in a frontier church made him feel not only conspicuous, but also inadequate.  Kaylee would tug on his shirt to get him to sit and stand.  She'd whisper in his ears the appropriate congregational response to the myriad greetings, blessings and prayers, all of which River seemed to know as if by instinct.  Not a lot could make Simon Tam feel stupid, this church service did.  

                When Book finally stepped onto the pulpit, Simon let out a sigh of relief.  He'd known the preacher for several months and had heard clippings of various sermons from the older man hundreds of times. Whatever came next, he figured he was prepared. 

                "I grew up with brothers," Book started.  "There were four of us and we drove our mother crazy.  None more than my brother, Steven, though.  He was the second and seemed to be a magnet for trouble.  As her hair grayed she told folks that it wasn't silvering, it was 'stevening'." The congregation laughed.  "I remember one time Steven was playing with blocks.  By playing, I mean stuffing them into an atmo vent." The congregation laughed again.  "As providence would have it, that night there was a cold spell.  My mother tried to turn up the heat, but nothin' happened.  For nearly a week we shivered and no one could figure why the atmo wasn't working properly.    

"Finally, my father had enough.  On the seventh day of our family ice age a repairman came and looked at the controls.  Nothin' wrong there.  He looked at the furnaces, nothin' wrong there.  Finally, he looked at the vents." The congregation chuckled.  "My mother was so mad at us boys that she nearly tore out all of her stevened hair.  She lined us up and ask who'd done it.  No one said anything.  Now, we all knew it was Steven, they were his blocks, we'd all seen him shove them in the vents, and his face was redder than a cherry, there was no doubt, even, I'm sure, in my mother's mind.  But no one said anything.  She told us that, unless the guilty brother stepped forward, she was going to punish us all.  I saw Steven glanced at our oldest brother, Patrick, and Pat did the most wonderful thing I can think of.  He said 'I did it.'  He took the punishment."

The congregation was silent, drawn into a very predictable sermon about sacrificial love by the mildly amusing antidote, River among them.  She seemed to soak up every word Book said, as if she'd never heard of grace before.  Simon had never seen her so attentive; she'd never needed to concentrate fully on what anyone was saying; she'd always understood it as soon as it was out of their mouths.  He wondered what she thought she was learning and wondered if he should be trying to learn something too.  He wondered if faith would help or hinder River as she tried to get better.  He wondered if a good God would let an innocent girl be tortured and scarred the way River was.  He wondered if an inattentive God could be a god at all.  He wondered what kind of evidence could successfully be presented for or against a good God, or any type of God.  He wondered if choosing to be an atheist after some sort of trauma wasn't a perverted kind of faith.  In short, he wondered through the whole sermon and couldn't have recalled a word if River's life depended on it. 

                Kaylee tugged his shirt, pulling him out of his wondering, and nodded that they were about to stand.  He was able to rise with congregation, accept a benediction, and breathe easier as the service was finally over.

                "I thought he did real good," Kaylee said, leading the way out of the pew in the back of the church.  "Don't you?"

                "Ah, yeah," Simon said uncertainly.  "Very good."

                "You didn't hear a word did you?" Kaylee said, smiling at him wisely.  

                Simon opened his mouth to defend himself, but realized that there was nothing to gain by lying to the extremely pretty girl.  "No," He admitted guilty.  "My mind sort of . . . wondered."

                "Well, so long as you were thinkin' godly thoughts I think the shepherd'll forgive ya," she said, stepping out of the church and walking a few paces forward, away from the door, before she paused and waited for her pew-mates to catch up.  "Ya were thinkin' godly thoughts, weren't cha?"

                "Well, I was thinking about God," Simon said.

                "Close enough," Kaylee said quickly before nodding towards Jack and River:  "Ain't they cute?"

                The boy and girl were dallying, walking slowly and whispering to each other quietly.  Whatever they were saying, it was clear that the mistakes of last night had been forgiven or if not that, then at least forgotten.  The two were closer than ever.

                "I can't help but feel a deep sense of foreboding," Simon confessed.  "She's going to be crushed when we leave."

                "Naw," Kaylee said.  "She smart enough ta know it's a fling."

                "I don't feel confident in assessing what she knows and what she doesn't."

                "Well," Kaylee said brightly changing the subject as River and Jack reached them.  "I think it's time for lunch.  How 'bout it Jack?"

                "Lunch sound's just great," Jack said.  "You finally gonna show us your spot?"

                "Yup," Kaylee nodded.  "Finally gonna show you my spot."

                "Your spot?" Simon asked, a curious twinkle in his eyes.

                "Yup," Kaylee nodded.  "It's this grate place I know.  Where I used to take all the boys."

                "All the boys?" He was somewhat less enthused.

                "With a waterfall," River said, smiling softly to herself.  "Like kissing."

                "Yeah, you can see Trickle Falls from my spot," Kaylee said, a little bewildered.  "How'd ya know that?"  

                "That's how she described kissing last night," Simon explained quickly.  "Like falling over a waterfall."

                "That certainly sounds like praise ta me, Jack," Kaylee said, making her cousin blush.

                "I didn't know you were so poetical," the boy said, turning to River, who's only response was to smile back mysteriously.

*   *   *

"I've found them, sir," Officer James said, jogging up to his commanding officer. 

"Definite positive ID?" McMeal asked.

"Yes, sir," James replied. "They just got out of church."

"Out of church?" McMeal muttered. "So, there are other people?"

"A crowd, sir," James said. "But I do have good news concerning that."

"Yes?"

"They went off with only two companions," James said. "Woehlck is tracking them now, sir; they seem to be headed out of town. Frankly, sir, it looks like a picnic."

"A picnic," McMeal said. "How quaint. I hope they don't mind an interruption."

"Orders?"

"Call everyone back," McMeal ordered. "We're going to go get them while they're out of town. These two aren't natives, so no one should notice their disappearance so long as no one sees it. This needs to be a precision operation, quiet and as unnoticed as possible."

"Understood, sir," James said, nodding curtly.

"Good," McMeal replied. "Now go."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

"Kaylee," Simon said, reclining on an old wool blanket she'd brought. They'd spread it over the ground, which was covered in last year's fallen leaves, broken sticks, acorns, pinecones, and a host of other things that made the ground gross and uneven. But Simon didn't notice that as much as he noticed how pretty Kaylee was surrounded by the soft light that streamed in through the canopy of trees. She was so pretty that Simon was almost embarrassed to look at her, he knew he'd stare.  So he focused his eyes in front of him about twenty yards, on River and Jack, who were wading in the cold, knee deep pool at the bottom of Trickle Falls "I'm sorry about yesterday."

"What?" Kaylee asked, turning to Simon, somewhat surprised.

"I wasn't fair, yesterday," Simon said, glancing up towards Kaylee and, as he knew it would, his gaze got caught in her deep russet eyes.  "And I'm sorry."

"Oh," Kaylee said, laughing. "Your talkin' about with Henderson."

"I don't know who . . ."

"Ya fell in a lake," Kaylee said with a shrug. "That's bound ta make anyone snappy."

"Thanks for understanding," Simon said smiling up at her sweetly.

"Well," Kaylee said, glancing away from his soft blue eyes. "I wasn't exactly bein' reasonable. Henderson got all pushy and I," she sighed in disgust. "I suppose I was hopin' I could come home and not have ta be who I'd been. But that ain't happenin' and I got tetchy on account."

"When you say 'not have to be who you'd been,' what do you mean by that?"

"Aw, Simon, I don't . . ." Kaylee said, shaking her head and scrunching her nose. She was sitting, her back to a large oak tree, so that Simon, propped on his elbows, was looking upward at her. 

"I want to know," the young doctor insisted kindly. "I don't mean to pry, and I'll understand if you don't want to tell me. But I can't imagine you ever being anyone but who you are."

She looked down at him curiously; Simon was compelled to explain further. "I mean," he stuttered, "You, you're not repressed, you don't pretend to be who you're not. You have a confidence in yourself. It's just, it's hard for me to think of you without that."

"You're sweet," Kaylee said, smiling down at him. "But it's not like that.  Me and Henderson, we had a thing a long time ago and I guess that he jus'," she shrugged, "He thought it'd be ok with me if we had it again."

"What kind of thing?" Simon asked with not-so-innocent curiosity.

"Ah, ya know," Kaylee said.  "He's a boy, I'm girl, we had a thing."

"So . . . you were dating him?"  Simon pushed.

"Not . . . not datin', not really," Kaylee said.  She was chewing on her lip and her eyes were scanning the leaves of the trees above her, obviously searching the lush, shimmering greenness for the perfect way to describe her relationship with Henderson.  "We had fun together," Kaylee said, turning and looking at Simon.  "Ya know, like boys and girls do."

"Like boys and girls do?" Simon asked, almost rhetorically.  Kaylee didn't like his expression, it seemed cagey and cool to her, and she didn't like being looked at that way at all.

"We had sex, Simon," Kaylee said, her frustration at his questioning making her a little defensive.  "We had fun sex.  That's all."

                "I see," Simon said, nodding, not moving his lips.  It was a bad sign when he didn't move his lips.  "And when I walked in on you, did I interrupt any of that 'fun sex'?"

                "I told ya," Kaylee sighed with exasperation.  "Henderson and me . . . he's got the greatest hoverboat ever, that's it.  I ain't wanted ta sleep with him for years, certainly not yesterday."

                "How many guys did you have 'fun sex' with?"

                Kaylee was clearly taken aback by the question.  She could understand Simon getting tetchy about Henderson.  They did, after all, sort-of, kind-of, have a type-of understanding between them.  They'd never discussed the terms of their relationship, exclusivity and so forth, but they hadn't had to.  There really wasn't anyone available on _Serenity that could draw them away from each other in the first place.  And, in retrospect, his jealousy and suspicion were kinda cute.  But now he was getting a little nosy and just a tad judgmental.  "What do it matter?"_

                "What do you mean, 'what does it matter'?" Simon asked incredulously. 

                "You afraid I got some STD?" Kaylee asked.  "I been checked--"

                "I'm just curious," Simon said, pushing himself up so he was eye-to-eye with the pretty mechanic who seemed, for some reason, slightly less pretty than she had in the church yard.  

                "What, you wanna know where I've been?" Kaylee demanded. 

                "No," Simon said, clearly disgusted by her crude phrasing.  "But, I . . ."  he sighed and tried again.  "You don't seem like the type."

                "Like what type?" Kaylee asked.

                There was no right answer to that question so Simon couldn't help but pick the wrong one.  "You seem innocent."

                Kaylee laughed, "So, I'm what, guilty?"

                "You know what I mean."

                "Maybe I don't.  Maybe you should explain it."

                "I don't want to play this game."

                "Too late now," Kaylee observed.  "Gotta at least finish the round."

                "I'm surprised, ok?" Simon said simply.  

                "Surprised?"

                "You don't seem like the kind of girl who would sleep around," he told her honestly.  "You seem . . . well, I thought you'd have more self respect than that."

                "What does havin' some fun behind a barn or under the bleachers or on the floor of a gorramn engine room have to do with self respect?"  Kaylee demanded.  "I can't respect myself if I know what I want and I get it?"

                Simon shook his head, "You don't understand."

                "And I suppose the doctor who went to school for so long and is such a genius, I suppose that he could explain it to silly little me."

                "I'm not belittling you," Simon said angrily.  "Stop putting words in my mouth."

                "Ain't no need," Kaylee observed. "You got plenty a words in there."

                "If we can't have an intelligent conversation then maybe we should just stop talking," Simon snapped.

                "Oh, I was serious," Kaylee said.  "I wanna know what I don't get about sex and self esteem and a host of other things I'm sure."

                "Fine, then," Simon said angrily.  "I'll tell you.  Sex isn't just a good time.  It means something.  And who you have sex with and when and where, they all mean something."

                "They don' have to," Kaylee interjected.

                "It's not a matter of choice," Simon insisted.  "They do mean something, say something about who you are.  And the fact you don't see it that way, well, that says something about who you are, too."  
                There was a very icy pause in the warm glen.  The boy and the girl stared at each other, eyes locked, neither willing to back down, both feeling they had the moral high ground, neither willing to give an inch.

                "Well," Kaylee said after a moment.  "You seem to know so much.  What does my 'loose' view of sex say about me?"

                The doctor looked at her for a moment and then looked down at the blanket.  "I respect you, Kaylee," He said, not glancing up at her.  "You are beautiful and cheerful and . . . delightful."

                "And a slut," the girl added.

                "You're putting words in my mouth again," Simon said, glaring up at her angrily.  "That's not fair."

                "And I don't think it's fair of you ta change how you think about me when I ain't changed," the girl said.  "This mornin' you stood up for me when Peggy called me a trollop, and now . . ."

                "How did you get on the ship?" Simon asked pointedly.  

                "It don't matter," Kaylee insisted.

                "I paid a fare to get on _Serenity_," Simon said.  "A hundred and fifty credits."

                "I remember," Kaylee spat.

                "Do you remember I paid in cash?  I did that because I knew I could be traced though my credit account.  I was running as quickly and as far as I could get.  River was smuggled in.  She was unconscious, in a box, and woke up in _Serenity_.  Neither of us entered the ship with particular dignity."

                "I was humpin' the mechanic at the time, fella named Bester, in the engine room when Cap'n walked in," Kaylee said, unashamedly.  "Weren't dignified, as you said, but I wasn't hiddin' nothin' and I wasn't expectin' anyone to do anything for me."

                "I didn't expect anyone to do anything for me," Simon said annoyed.  

                "If that's what you say," Kaylee said, rolling her eyes.

                "I think, maybe, we should just end this conversation," Simon said, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.  

                "'Cause it's gettin' mean?"  Kaylee said.  

                "If we're going to talk about something we should do it intelligently," Simon said.  "Not slinging insults at each other like children."

                "Like you want ta have sex be?" Kaylee asked.  "Cool and collected with its meain' all understood proper and appropriate."

                Simon opened his mouth, searching for a response more sophisticated than 'Shut-up!', when he was interrupted by River screaming.

                Simon and Kaylee's argument was instantly forgotten as they both jumped to their feet, expecting to have to save the poor girl from some one else or, just as likely, herself.  But River didn't' look like she was hurt or afraid or even insane.  She looked innocently and childishly excited.

                "They're coming! They're coming," the young girl said, running frantically towards her brother, who caught her as she reached him.  "They're almost here, Simon," she said excitedly.  "And we'll fly away home, just like in the song."

                "The song?" Simon asked, before remembering that they'd sung the spiritual 'I'll Fly Away' that morning in church; a realization that made him more nervous not less.  "River, what are you saying?"

                "We're going home," She said, smiling so broadly that Simon's natural sense of apprehension was almost overpowered. 

                "_Serenity's locked up, sweetie," Kaylee said, stepping forward.  "But if you need anything, I'm sure the captain will—"_

                "Not the ship," River said, "Home."

                "My God, River," Simon said, his voice chilled.  "What'd you do?"

                "Simon and River Tam," a clear authoritative voice called from behind them.  Simon and Kaylee turned to see a tall, muscular man in an official uniform holding a very large gun step out of the forest.  "The Governor of Newhope demands you're presence immediately."

                "See," River said.  "They'll take us home, Simon.  And Uncle Reggie will tell us stories and give us hot cocoa and we'll play tag with Genie and it'll be all better."

                Simon knew that guards with guns rarely lead to bedtime stories, games of tag and hot coca, but was too worried about not being hauled off to prison, or possibly someplace a thousand times worse, to correct his sister.  "Are we bound by law?" He demanded, squaring his shoulders and looking as intimidating as his slight frame would allow. He'd turned around to face the man and tried to keep River behind him.  She, however, was not cooperating; she was trying to push her way past him, towards the armed man. He had to concentrate, had to focus, had to keep total possession of himself and control of the situation.  If he let his considerable fear show for a second, he could quite possibly lose whatever advantages he had against the armed officer.

                "No," the man said.  "But you cannot refuse the Governor's request."

                "Simon," River said, "Uncle Reggie sent him.  He's taking us home."

                "Home's not exactly a place we want to be, River," Simon said, not turning to look at his sister but keeping his eyes focused totally on the officer.  "Give the Governor my apologies, but my sister and I are going to have to refuse the invitation."

                "Simon," River pleaded, pulling on her brother's arm.

                "That is not an option."

                "Unless you have a warrant, it is," Simon said forcefully.

                "I wanna see Uncle Reggie," River pleaded.

                "Who's Uncle Reggie?" Kaylee asked.

                "Who's this girl?" the officer demanded.

                "She's nobody, just a pretty girl," Simon said quickly, answering the officer.  "Since you can't arrest us, please leave."

                "Your godfather said you'd resist us," the officer said.  "Don't make me use violence."

                "Simon, what's going on?" Kaylee demanded.

                "My godfather would strip you of your office if you hurt either River or me," Simon said with the confidence of someone who knows a bluff when they see it.

                "But he wouldn't if we hurt her," the officer said, nodding his head.  An until-that-moment unnoticed man stepped out of the trees to Kaylee's right and, before anyone could react, gabbed her arm roughly. He had a large handgun in his other hand and was holding it so everyone could see that he was perfectly equipped to hurt Kaylee as severely as necessary. 

                "No," Simon said, his voice, and heroic façade, cracking.  "Don't hurt her, she's . . ."

                "A very unfortunate bystander if you don't come with us."

                "Simon," Kaylee whimpered.  She was trembling.  

                "We won't," the boy said, as much to the pretty girl as to the officer.  He was regaining his confidence, but it was clear that Kaylee's position made him nervous; he kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes.  "You can't hurt her, she's a free citizen of this planet.  The Governors guard does not go around assaulting free citizens." 

                "Simon?" Kaylee said again, fearful tears were streaming down her cheeks.  

                "_Ce__ lve hong se," the officer shouted.  And then several things happened at once.  The man who was holding Kaylee, raised his pistol and cracked the pretty mechanic on the head.  She fell, unconscious to the ground.  Simon saw this and tried to rush to her, but before he got even a step closer, someone tackled him from behind.  He was slammed onto the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of him.  He heard River scream as someone grabbed her, but her scream was cut short, presumably because she'd been gagged or, perhaps, knocked unconscious.  Simon felt his hands being pulled behind his back, he knew in a matter of seconds he's be handcuffed and practically helpless.  With all the strength he could muster, he tried to shove off the large man on his back.  This resulted in a sharp pain at the back of his neck that made his vision blur.  He tried to move again, purely out of instinct, and another sharp pain in the back of his neck made the world go black._

To Be Continued. . . .


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: In which Kaylee gets sick and River explains everything to everybody

                "Cap'n Reynolds, Cap'n Reynolds!" Jack called loudly, running through the Frye's yard.  The mass of people assembled, chatting, at the long tables turned and looked at him, some amused, some confused, and some alarmed.  Mal stood up, a sick feeling starting to settle in his gut.  The boy went off with Kaylee, Simon and River.  He came back alone, screaming.  This did not bode well for Mal's youngest crewmembers.  

                "What is it, boy?" Mal called, climbing over the bench he was sitting on, untangling himself from the many people and working his way towards the near-hysteric Jack.  "Where's the others?"

                "I'm so sorry Cap'n, but I didn't know . . ." he was practically sobbing.  

                By the time Mal reached the boy, Jack was surrounded by his father, mother, and one of his sisters, Mal didn't know which one.  "I'm really sorry, I just, I didn't know what ta do."

                "What?" Mal said.  He could feel Zoë come up behind him.  "Tell us what happened."

                "The Governors guard's," Jack gasped.  "They came and they took Simon and River, they hit Kaylee."

                "The Governor," Mal said, his voice was more strained than he'd of liked it to be.  "The Alliance appointed governor?"

                "'Couldn't a been the Governor's guards," Jack's mom said, with a sort of nervous laugh.  "Gov'ner Comworth's a good man."

                "Where's Kaylee?" Zoë asked.  

                "I couldn't wake her up," Jack said.  "She's breathin', I made sure she was breathin', but I couldn't wake her up."

                "Show us," Mal said.  "Can you do that?"

                Jack nodded and, after glancing at his father, who nodded.  Then the boy turned and started running back in the direction he'd come from.  Mal, Zoë and Hubert started to follow.  

                "Jayne, come with us," Mal yelled over his shoulder.  "Zoë, you stay here."

                "Sir, I . . ." his fistmate started.

                "There could be trouble, don't want you in it," Mal said assertively.  By this time Jayne and Book had reached the group who were, despite their conversations, trying to keep up with Jack as he wove through the forest.  

                "Sir," Zoë started again.

                "Stay," Book said, "I'll go for you."

                "Stay, Zoë," Mal  said.  "That's an order."

                "Yes, sir," the firstmate said a little bitterly, breaking out of the run.  As she watched the four men follow the boy disappear into the forest, she couldn't help but think that it was going to be the longest nine months of her life.

*   *   *

                "Ah, and how are my two beautiful women?" Governor Comworth said, approaching Inara and Genie as the younger girl was learning the fine art of applying mascara.  

                "Fine," Genie grumbled.  

                "Soon to be more beautiful still," Inara said pleasantly.  "Genie's got a lovely face, especially when it's clean."

                "Don't I know it," the Governor laughed.  "I was wondering, Lady Inara, if I could stretch your graciousness just a little further?  With full compensation, of course."

                Inara didn't exactly like how that sounded.  She laughed softly and prettily, "I'm sorry, governor, but I don't quite understand your meaning."

                "There is another girl, a girl Genie's age, old family friend, who's come to visit me for a few days.  She, this girl, is a dear friend of my dear granddaughter's and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind tutoring them both."

                "Papa, who is it?" Genie said, turning away from the mirror with only one eye lash accentuated.  Her face looked off balance.

                "What do you think, Lady Inara, could I impose that on you?"

                "Of course," Inara said, smiling warmly.  "Another pupil would be delightful.  I'm sure Genie would appreciate having a friend and it is somewhat difficult to teach social graces without there being other people to interact with.

                "Wonderful," Comworth said, offering Inara an equally warm smile.  "You are too gracious."

                "Papa, who is it?" Genie insisted again.

                "You'll see," he said, a sort of chuckle in his voice.  "She'll arrive late tonight and attend classes with you in the morning."

                "Papa, please," Genie implored.

                "It's a surprise, Genie dear," the governor said, walking up to his granddaughter and kissing her lovingly on the forehead.  "Now, finish your lesson.  You might not want to look your most beautiful when your friend comes, but by then I expect you to know how you could look your most beautiful."

                "Yes, Papa," the girl sighed.

                "Good," the Governor said.  "I, for one, cannot wait until tomorrow."

*   *   *

"C_hi dai mi lu er nu_" Jane grumbled as they forced their way through the thick woods.  "Can't go a gorramn day without fishin' the _gan_ ao man yi_ out a some trouble or another."_

                "The boat thing was your fault, Jayne," Mal said, a little pointedly as they jogged through the woods.  "As were some other scrapes the boy's found himself in."

                "All right, all right," Jayne snapped.  

                "There she is!" Jack said, pointing to a little clearing at the edge of the woods in front of them.  Kaylee was sprawled on a blanket on the forest floor.  She looked for the world like she was dead.  Mal knew she wasn't, but he'd seen enough dead bodies to hate the awkward slackness that comes when someone suddenly, violently, loses consciousness. Mal broke into a run and outdistanced Jack, reaching her first. 

                "Little Kaylee," Mal said, falling to his knees, carefully touching the young girl's head around the large greenish gray bruise on her right temple. "_Shui__ xing mei mei."    _

                "It looks like she was pistol whipped," Book said, dropping down besides Mal.  "There don't seem to be any other injuries."

                "What happened?" Mal demanded, turning to Jack, who was standing beside his father at the edge of the small clearing.  

                "River and I," He started, sucking in a deep jittery breath, "We were . . . we were playin' in the stream over there.  Just goofin' off, ya know, nothin' bad."

                "Nobody thinks ya did anything bad, son," Mal said, trying not to snap at the poor boy.  But Jack's continual apologizing was wearing thin on Mal's already taunt nerves.  "Just tell us what happened."

                "Well, River, she gets this look in her eye, like its Christmas or somethin' and she runs off ta Simon and Kaylee.  They were watchin' us, talkin' to themselves, from just right here."

                "Right," Mal said, very eager to get to the part where his crew was assaulted and kidnapped.

                "Well, she screeched and startled me and I fell in ta the river, and by the time I got myself up, that's ta say my head out a the water, I saw that there was a guy there, one a the governor's guards.  An' he had a big gun.  I could see there were a whole mess of them, six at least, surroundin' River, and Kaylee, and Dr. Tam.  I should of gone and tried ta help.  I should of been brave."

                "No," Hubert said quickly, trying to calm his near-hysterical son.  "What you did was right.  If you'd of tried ta attack them guards you'd of ended up like Kaylee or worse.  It's good now you can tell us just what happened."

                "Well," Jack said, gasping a little for breath, "they was talkin' that is, Dr. Tam and the guard what he saw was talkin'.  I couldn't hear 'cause I was stayin' low in the water so they wouldn't find me."

                "Good plan," Mal said.  "Then what happened?"

                "Well, Dr. Tam mustn't a seen all them guards surrounding them, 'cause one stepped out and grabbed Kaylee and then there was more talkin' and then, all a sudden, the guard that had Kaylee knocked her on the head with his gun and another two jumped out of them trees and tackled the doc, knocked him out, an' then another one grabbed River and tied her up and they carried them off and they just left Kaylee . . . they just left her.  And I waited a bit, ta make sure they was all gone.  Then I came up and I tried ta wake her.  When I couldn't then I ran straight ta you.  That's just what happened."

                "I see," Mal said, nodding soberly.  "I guess all that's good to know."

                "Here that, Jackobeam?" Hubert said.  "You done a good job."

                "I'm real sorry, sir," Jack said again.

                "I know it," Mal nodded. Simon and River were missing.  Again.  If Mal didn't know better he'd half suspect one of those two contacted the feds, it was the only way anyone official could have known they were there.  The only way.

"Captain," Book's clear voice seemed to slice through Mal's concern over Simon and River as his attention was drawn back to the weak and helpless Kaylee. "She's coming around."

"_Dao xie cis han tian shi," Mal muttered, returning to his dazed-but-conscious mechanic side. "Little Kaylee, can ya hear me?"_

"'Couse I can," Kaylee muttered, her voice a little slurred. "Yer talkin' so loud."

"You got a nasty bump there, sweetheart," Book said, smiling down at Kaylee. "Do you think you could sit up?"

"My head hurts," the girl muttered.

"I know," Mal said kindly. "We're gonna get you to a doctor."

Kaylee starred up at her captain, her large brown eyes were hazy and unfocused. "What happened to Simon?" She asked.

Mal swallowed, "You don' know?"

"We were talkin'," Kaylee slurred. "I remember talkin' . . ."

"It's all right," Mal said. "You just take it easy and don't worry none. Preacher," he said, turning to Book, "You think it'd be all right ta move her?"

"You're guess is as good as mine," Book said. What he didn't say, yet Mal was certain the preacher was thinking, 'I wish Simon was here'; he was so certain because that was exactly what Mal himself was thinking. 

"Come on, _xin__ gan," Mal said, slipping his hand underneath Kaylee's head and pushing her gently into a sitting position. "Side from your head, how ya feelin'?"_

"Just shiny," the girl said, although her voice wasn't convincing. 

"I'm gonna carry you back to your folks," Mal said, moving a little, positioning his feet under his body, so he'd be able to pick her up gently.

"No," Kaylee said, pushing him away with shaky arms. "I can walk home."

"I don't know that that's such a good idea," Book said, placing his hand on her shoulder. "You shouldn't stress yourself."

"Help me up," Kaylee said stubbornly, taking Book's supportive gesture and trying to turn it in to leverage to hoist her unsteady self to her feet.

Book quickly stood, as did Mal, and between them they managed to get Kaylee standing, although it was very clear to all those watching that the girl was not standing by her own power, but rather being braced by the kind men on either side. 

"See," she said, although she seemed to be forcing the words out, "I can stand . . ."

Suddenly she pitched forward. She would have fallen if Mal had not reacted quick enough, throwing his arms around her and pulling her towards him. An action which he almost instantly regretted.

"Cap'n," the young girl said after a minute.  

"Yes, little Kaylee," he was trying very hard to be kind, not mad, not disgusted, and not to let the fresh smell of vomit upset his stomach.

"I'm real sorry," she said. "I didn't mean ta throw up all over you like that."

"I know you didn't," he said, wrapping one arm around her back while he hunched a little so he could pick her up by her knees. "Come on, let's get you home." 

"Kay," Kaylee mutter, resting her head on her Captain's shoulders. "Didn't mean ta be such a burden," she muttered into his now-vomit-soaked shoulder.

"You ain't," he said so softly that only she could hear.  "You were kind enough ta make yourself lighter for me ta carry you."  The girl laughed softly.  "You ain't a burden at all."

*   *   *   

Simon woke up and the first thing he thought was that his mouth was unusually dry. Then he turned his head and fireworks seemed to go off in his brain, creating red flashes of painful light in front of his eyes and setting the base of his neck on fire. He gasped for breath and realized that the reason his mouth was dry was because he was gagged. He moved his arms to try to take the gag off and realized they were tied behind his back. 

The doctor closed his eyes and tried to remember what had happened; how he'd come to be bound and gagged with the worst headache he'd ever had. But the last thing he could remember was Kaylee's pretty face smiling down at him and the sound of River and Jack's laughter in the background. Whatever happened, Simon realized, must have happened during their picnic, which meant whatever happened, Kaylee and Jack had been caught in the middle of it. Despite his best efforts, Simon couldn't keep his mind from wondering back to their escape from St. Lucy's in Ariel City. He didn't want to think of Kaylee and Jack screaming the way those guards had screamed, but he was too logical and too realistic to dismiss the thought. 

Simon took a deep breath and told himself that, whatever had happened to Kaylee, it didn't matter. All that mattered now was getting free. Once he got free he could find River. Once he found River he could figure out a way for them to escape. Once they escaped they could find their way back to _Serenity. Once they were back on __Serenity he could ask Mal what had happened to Kaylee. But before that time, considering the possibilities would not only be fruitless but had the potential to be a harmful emotional and intellectual distraction._

Simon took a deep breath and, as smoothly as possible, pulled his knees forward so they were, more or less, parallel with his chest. Then, when he felt he'd have enough leverage, he closed his eyes, bit down hard on his gag and tried to ignore the explosions in his head as he tried to push himself onto his knees. He'd only managed to get his face a few inches off the ground before he felt himself start to faint. He'd just decided to try to lower himself back down before he passed out when a gentle pair of hands grabbed his arms and, with a soft strength, pushed him up so that he was hunched upright, sitting more or less on his feet, still dizzy but balanced.

When the pain in his head subsided he was able to open his eyes and, after several blinks, focus his blurred vision enough to make out River's smiling, ungagged, unbound, form. "Apple a day keeps the doctor away," She said with a little laugh. 

Simon tried to say his sister's name, but it came out as an unrecognizable muttering. His head was pounding, he wanted to be lying down again.

"Apple in the morning; Doctor's warning," she giggled as she reached behind her brother's head and carefully untied the gag. To the young doctor, this whole thing seemed like a dream. " Roast apple at night; starves the doctor outright."

Simon gasped and tears of pain flooded his eyes as she accidentally brushed the spot on the back of his head.  His dream-like perception was shattered as the reality of why his head hurt so much was made perfectly clear.

"Three each day, seven days a week; ruddy apple, ruddy cheek," River said, glancing apologetically at her brother as she pulled down the gag with increased caution. "You look pale."

"River," Simon managed to say. His voice was raw and stretched thin by fear and pain. "How did you get free?"

"You're not a prisoner if you don't want to run away," she explained. "You're a guest."

"If you don't want to . . ." Simon said. Maybe it was the head injury, but he was becoming more confused, not less. "River, we were kidnapped."

"We were invited," River said. "Uncle Reggie wants to see us as much as we want to see him."

"Uncle Reggie?" Simon said. "What does he . . .?"

"Poor Simon," River said, leaning forward and kissing her brother softly on the forehead. "If you hadn't been so rude they wouldn't have had to hit you on the head."

"So, wait," Simon said, trying to pry memories from his brain and make them fit with his sister's ramblings. The exercise made his head hurt even more. "Uncle Reggie sent men to get us. I resisted and they hit me on the head and tied me up."

"Eat an apple going to bed, knock the doctor on the head," River said, almost as if she were scolding him. 

"What happened to Kaylee and Jack?" Simon asked, despite his well thought out plans.

The girl glanced away; she looked almost guilty. "Jack saw everything," She muttered. "He'd help her."

"What happened to Kaylee?" Simon asked again, a little more fervently.

"They hit her head," River said sadly. "She fell down."

Simon took a deep breath and told himself, with renewed resolve, that he wasn't going to worry about Kaylee because he could do nothing for her. "So," he said, a little louder than he meant to, loud enough to make his head hurt. "I take it we are going to see Uncle Reggie."

River nodded and smiled, though her thoughts were still clearly on Kaylee.

"Well, we'll just have to find a way out before we get there," He ignored the shocks of pain every time he moved his head so he could look around him more closely. They were in a room about six feet across and twelve feet long. He had been lying, and now they were sitting, on a plush red velvet bench on the left side of the room. There was an identical bench on the right and a green carpet between them and windows over the benches covered with thick shutters, the metal kind that can lock from the outside. The front and back walls, the doors, the ceiling and the floor were all made of dark polished rosewood. "Where are we -- on a train?"

"Genie drew me a picture of this once," River said, her voice warm again. She had, apparently, worked through her worries for Kaylee. "It's the governor's private transport. We're almost there."

"River," Simon said. "He'll send you back. Back to the Academy."

"No," River said shaking her head lightly, like Simon was joking. "He wouldn't."

Simon opened his mouth fully intending to tell her that no one, not even their parents, had believed him when he told them about her message. He wanted to tell her that they thought he was insane for even trying to reach her. He wanted to tell her that he'd had to cut every tie with their family just to keep her. The reason they'd had to create a new life was because no one in their old lives would have them. But just thinking those things made his own heart break, he didn't know how he could do that to River.

But as he sat there, mouth open, his amazing sister reached up and petted his cheek. Smiling sweetly and knowingly at him, she said:

_"You may think this whole thing accidental;_

_That you weren't meant to take this trip,_

_For you never chose the sentimental_

_So now will you accept from me a little tip:_

_Don't tumble into dark transcendental_

_Thoughts, (I know how your mind can slip)_

_But rather trust your heart's elemental_

_Ways of keeping a steady grip._

_I can't wait 'till our destination's nigh,_

_Even though I know my excitement does annoy,_

_But my voice longs to shout into the sky,_

_Communicate the depths of my souls deepest joy._

_We're almost home, why do you want to cry?_

_Please smile, brother mine, you hun, bei ai__ boy."_

"You've gotta stop talking in poems, _mei__ mei," Simon said, swallowing hard so he wouldn't sob._

                "I like it." 

                Simon nodded and took a deep breath.  "So, we're going to Uncle Reggie's?" 

                River smiled broadly and nodded.

                "Did they tell you how they found us?"

                "I told them."

                "River, that doesn't . . ."

                "I sent him a message," River explained.  "A code, an easy code, so he could break it."

                "That's how they knew," Simon nodded.  River's poem, to an extent, had produced the desired affect.  He'd resigned himself, for the time being, to waiting and being received by his godfather.  It was possible, Simon knew, that his Uncle would listen with an open mind to what Simon had to say.  It was possible that the Alliance-appointed governor would have his heart moved by seeing the change in River.  It was possible that the man who'd never forgotten Simon's birthday, who'd been to all of his graduations, who'd been the only person Simon knew to offer him comfort, not criticism, in the period after he'd been bailed out of jail, would trust him, and let them go.  It was possible; Simon couldn't bring himself to believe it wasn't.  

                "I need you to do something for me, River," Simon said very seriously.  "You have to make me a promise."

                "I told you," River said, with equal seriousness.  "They don't let her keep promises."

                "I remember," Simon said.  "But you have to try.  We'll be at Uncle Reggie's house soon.  He's going to ask us questions about where we've been, who we've been with."

                "You want me to lie."

                "You don't have to lie," Simon insisted.  "We can tell them that we won't tell them."

                "Genie would like Kaylee."

                "I know.  But if we tell them about the ship, they'll find the ship.  Mom and Dad will be angry and everyone will get in trouble.  You understand?"

                "They were helping us."

                "Not everyone can understand that," Simon said.  "Will you try not to tell anyone about the ship?  Not a word about the crew, where we've been.  Nothing at all."

                "What if she asks me?" 

                "You can't tell Genie," Simon said.  "You can't tell anyone."

                "Not Genie," River started, but she was interrupted by one of the thick wood doors being slid open.  Lieutenant McMeal and two other guards stepped into the small room and stood imposingly over Simon and River.

                "Are you ready to meet the governor, Doctor?"  McMeal asked.

                "We've met, actually," Simon said, carefully pushing himself up and off of the couch before the guards had a chance to haul him.  His vision blurred and he felt like he was going to faint again, but managed to keep his feet by sheer force of will.  "Would you mind untying my hands?"

                "You're a flight risk."

                "No," Simon said.  "I'm not."

                "He's telling the truth," River said, smiling adoringly at her brother, who was to busy being cold and stoic to smile back.  She didn't mind.  "Uncle Reggie always has a tin of Simon's favorite peppermints in the top drawer of his desk."

                McMeal was unmoved, "I'm sorry, Doctor, but your godfather is very eager to see you and I don't want to run the risk of disappointing him.  So," the officer jerked his head and turned to walk out the same door they had entered.  River followed, excitedly, then with some urging from one of the officers, came Simon, the other two officers followed. The Tams were escorted through the area of the transport designed to carry the governor's guards and headed for the exit where Uncle Reggie and Genie would be, undoubtedly, waiting for them. The guards all looked edgy, as if they were ready to jump Simon the moment he showed the slightest sign of making a break for it.  Their heightened alertness made what Simon had to do even harder.

                "Please, River," he whispered, hoping the guards didn't assume he was planning any thing nefarious.  "Remember what we were talking about.  It's very important."

                "I know," She said over her shoulder as they reached the transport door, which McMeal was carefully opening, his eyes trained on Simon as if the young doctor could break loose his bonds and snap all their necks the second his back was turned.

"Their lives could –" Simon began to insist before she cut him off.

"I'll remember," She said. "One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret never to be told."

                "Good," Simon said, nodding despite the well of uncertainty he felt.  "Good."

                The door slid open and River jumped out.  "Uncle Reggie," she said, running excitedly across the cream-colored brick transport pad towards her brother's godfather.  The older man reached out and swooped the girl up into his arms.  She laughed, childishly and joyously.  

                "How are you, my sweetheart?"

                "I'm happy," The girl said.   "But Simon is afraid."

                "Is that so?" Comworth said, setting the young girl down on her feet and turning to her brother who had just been pushed violently out of the transport door.  His hands were bound behind his back but his shoulders were squared.  He looked proud and defiant, not at all happy or grateful like his younger sister.  "Do you think he's afraid of me?" the old man said, leaning in and whispering to the young girl.

                River laughed.  "No," She said, shaking her head.  "He's afraid for me." This time she leaned closer and whispered.  "He thinks one of us should be."

                "But, darling, what do you have to be afraid of?"

                River's smile slipped a little and the light in her eyes seemed to dim.  "Eyes that see and ears that hear," She said.  "Greedy hearts and malicious minds.  Ignoble people who would . . ." her voice got caught in her throat and she started gasping for breath.  
                "River," Simon said, trying to take a step forward only to be pushed back roughly by the guards.

                "It's all right, sweetheart," Comworth said, wrapping his arm protectively around the young girl.  "I know you've been though a lot.  Tonight you're going to sleep in a feather bed and in the morning you're going to put on a pretty new dress and have you're hair done and play with Genie.  How does that sound _xiao__ hai zi?"_

                "It sounds like home," River said softly.  She was not excited, but neither was she terrified.  "Like before."

                "All that's in the past now, sweetheart," Comworth said, kissing the top of the girl's head.  "You are home."

To Be Continued. . . .


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: In which Inara is surprised, Mal is impotent and Simon pleads his case

            "Here's the deal," Mal told what was left of his crew as they sat, quietly assembled, around the Frye's kitchen table.  Almost the entire family had quickly, and pretty rudely, been sent home with assurances that, as soon as Kaylee was feeling up to it, they could see her.  Al and Nora were upstairs, smothering their daughter with parental affection.  The young mechanic, however, was presently the least of Mal's worries.  "Little Kaylee's gonna be just fine."

            There was an audible sigh of relief, even though everyone had known that.  They'd all seen Mal carry the girl in; she'd made a point to wave and smile at the crowd. She'd tried to tell them that she was fine, an assertion weakened by the fact that she and her captain stunk with the acidy smell of vomit and there was a bruise on her head that looked absolutely horrific.  

            "Local doc says she's got a concussion.  She's gonna rest easy tonight and hopefully by tomorrow she'll be right as rain."

            "Speaking of doctors," Zoë said, leaning forward.  "Any clue as to Simon and River?"

            "No," Mal said.  "They were taken by the governor's guard.  And I don't have ta tell all of you that the governor on this here planet was appointed by the Alliance."

            "So then we're rid a them?" Jayne asked, just a little too hopefully.

            "Jayne!" Zoë gasped, horrified.  "Alliance will kill them."

            "Or worse," Mal said.  "So we're gonna find a way ta get them back."

            "Isn't Inara with the Governor?" Wash asked.  "Could she maybe do something?"

            "My thought exactly," Mal said.  "I sent a wave ta her shuttle, for reasons that are pretty obvious I didn't want it goin' through official channels."

            "What if she isn't in her shuttle?"  Book asked.

            "I'm waitin' for a reply for I start jumpin' ta 'ifs'," Mal said.  "Nara knows enough to check her messages.  Plus it might just be that she'll have a chance ta see Simon an' River in which case she'll be contacting us."

            "What do we do now, sir?" Zoë asked.

            "Ain't nothin' we can do for the Tams until morin'," Mal said.  "We'll meet here after breakfast and see what our options are.  In the mean time, I suggest we all try for some sleep.  Regardless of whether or not Inara can help us, gettin' them kids back ain't gonna be a cakewalk.  I want everyone ready for whatever action we might see."

*   *   *

            "Peppermint?" The governor of Newhope asked, offering a tin full of small white candies to his godson.  

            "No," Simon, now unbound and standing stoically in the governors office, said, not even glancing at the candy.  He didn't have to.  He knew the tin in the governor's hand about as well as he knew any object in the entire universe.  He knew how much it weighed, he knew where the dents were, and how they'd come to be there, he knew what the small shiny white balls that filled it looked like and smelled like and felt like in his hands and in his mouth and he knew what they tasted like, too. 

            "These are your favorite," Comworth said, a little hurt by Simon's coldness.

            "Governor," Simon said, his entire demeanor was as icy as he could make it.  "I am your prisoner and you are my captor.  Any confusion of these roles will only complicate what we both know has to happen."

            "What's that, Simon?" the governor asked, truly curious.

            "You're going to turn me into the Alliance," Simon said, although his conviction had slipped somewhat.  

            The old man looked at the boy for a long moment and then said kindly, "Simon, do you know who I am?"

            "Yes," Simon nodded.  "You're the Alliance-appointed governor of Newhope."

            "I mean, do you recognize me?" Comworth said, almost pleadingly.  "Do you remember all the—"

            "I remember," Simon said, cutting his godfather off before the old man's recollections were able to melt away all of his cool determination and aloofness.  "I just," he said a little uncertainly.  " . . . you had us kidnapped."

            "No," Comworth said.  "I sent a party to retrieve you."

            "I'm not seeing the difference."

            "Simon," the Governor said compassionately, putting the peppermints down and walking over to the boy.  "I don't think you're quite well."

            "It might be the blow to the back of the head one of your 'party' gave me," Simon spat a little viscously.

            "That man will be dealt with."

            "That sounds vague and ominous.  But then, I suppose upright government officials can't really talk openly about their kidnapping schemes."

            The governor didn't respond to that.  He just starred at Simon with his world-weary blue eyes.  Simon wanted very badly to apologize, to make it up to the old man who'd been so kind to him throughout his childhood, and take a peppermint and forget all about the Academy and _Serenity_ and, to a point, even River.  He wanted to be a little boy with the godfather he idolized.  But that wasn't an option, and so he forced himself to remain stoic.

            "Are you going to tell the alliance?"

            "Tell them what?"

            "That you found us."

            "I hadn't thought of it, but, I suppose, eventually. . .," Comworth sighed.

            "No," Simon insisted, real fear hedging his voice.  "You can't."

"I know you don't want to be caught, but . . ."

"You don't understand. They'll kill you."

            "You really are mad," Comworth said sadly.  

"There were these, these police officers who caught us.  They were alliance police, we were being officially processed."

            "Simon, what are you talking about?" 

            "We managed to escape," Simon continued.  "River, I and a third man who was large and strong.  He wanted to fight his way through the police and run out the way we came, the way we knew.  River was in hysterics, she insisted that they were coming."

            "They?"

            "Alliance agents," Simon said with a shrug.  "People from her school, people sent to retrieve her.  She calls them two by two with hands of blue.  She screams about them in her nightmares."

            "Why are you telling me all this?" Comworth asked.

            "I didn't see what happened," Simon said.  "But there were screams.  The most horrible . . . like these people were being tortured, or . . ." A shiver flew down the doctor's spine.  When he looked up at his godfather, his eyes were set and cold and dead serious.  "I worked in the emergency room.  I treated people with multiple gunshot wounds, severed limbs, the most atrocious and painful wounds that you can imagine.  Still, I've never heard screaming like this.  And then, after a few seconds, complete silence."

            "Maybe the people passed out," Comworth said.

            "Maybe," Simon nodded, although his tone made it clear that was not his favored theory.

            "And how did you escape from these blue-handed fiends?"

            "The people who we've been hiding with, they helped us.  Helped us escape.  If they hadn't come when they did the other man, he would have been killed right there, I'm sure of it.  If I wasn't killed I'd have . . . They want River, that's it.  I don't know why those police officers were killed, but I do know it was because of their contact with River and me."

            "Do you know how paranoid that sounds?"

            "Yes," Simon said.  "But that doesn't make it untrue.  Please, promise me you won't tell the alliance for your sake.  Not until you really understand what's going on."

            "That's a very unreasonable demand, Simon," Comworth said with a sigh.

            "No it's not," Simon insisted, "And even if it was, what harm could it possibly do for you to humor me? The worse thing that could happen if I'm wrong is a slight delay in our processing. But if I'm right . . ."

            Comworth took a deep breath and regarded his godson critically.  Finally he said, "I can't make any promises, but for now I will sustain from contacting them until I have this entire situation figured out.  What happened, Simon?" Comworth finally asked.

            "Do you care?" Simon asked, trying to sound callous.

            "Of course I do," Comworth said, a little angry.  "I care very much.  You are my godson, _wei le ji du_." 

            "Well then, have you read my warrant?" Simon asked, his voice trembling just a little.

            "It's not something I want to look at," Comworth admitted.  "Or even consider.  Simon, what came over you?"

            "You should read it," Simon said.  "I didn't want to at first but, ah, after a bounty hunter shot me, I thought it might be a good idea."

            "_Shen di yu, you were shot?" _

            Simon nodded dismissive, "Do you know what I'm wanted for?"

            "No," Comworth sighed.  "Simon, I don't care what you did; I just want to help you."

            "I'm wanted for stealing government property," Simon said.  

            "Whatever you took . . ." the governor started.

            "Don't you see," Simon said passionately.  "What I took was River."

            "What, exactly, are you saying?" Comworth asked.

            "I'm not charged with kidnapping because, to them, I didn't take a person, a human being, a girl, my sister. I didn't take River.  I took government property."

            "They who?"

            "The Alliance," Simon said.  "They tortured her, they cut her brain for some experiment or program or something.  She called out for help and I was the only one that heard her, or maybe I was the only one that cared.  I don't know." He sighed, and his eyes drifted to the elegant oriental rugs on the floor as he considered River.  "She . . . she doesn't know what's real, not really.  She told us once she understands, she just doesn't comprehend.  There are connections, somewhere, that aren't being made.  And, at night, she had these nightmares that . . ."

            "I know you think you did the right thing," Comworth said, putting a supportive hand on Simon's now-lax shoulder.  The doctor knew he should shake it off, he just didn't' have the heart.  "But do you know what I saw when she greeted me earlier tonight?  I saw the same lovely beautiful child I remember, not someone who'd been experimented on, not someone who suffers from a tenuous grip on reality."

            Simon stared at his loving godfather, horrified. "You think I'm psychotic," he said, suddenly realizing that nothing he said would matter.  "My parents, they told you I'd displayed paranoid tendencies and you think that the stress of being a surgeon or a failed romance or something stupid like that coupled with the anxiety of a prolonged separation from River sent me over the edge."

            "What?" Comworth laughed, somewhat warmly, somewhat nervously.  "You read minds now?"

            "I just know you," Simon said.  "I wish you knew me."

            "You honestly think you saved her, don't you?"

            "Does it matter what I answer?" Simon asked.  "It's what you think, isn't it? You'll interpret everything I tell you as a delusion, me projecting my own schizophrenic behavior onto River in order to justify my paranoia-driven actions, regardless of the truth."     

            "I must admit, boy, you don't sound insane."

            "Thank you," Simon said sarcastically.  "Your confidence means everything to me."

            "But you don't sound like my godson either," Comworth noted a little angrily.  "You have changed, Simon."

            The young doctor didn't have a response to that, his eyes drifted back to the floor.

            After a moment of silence, the governor picked up the tin box again.  "Do you remember when you gave this to me?"

            Simon glanced up.  The personal, comfortable way the governor had asked the question caught him off guard. "No," he admitted without a cool edge on his voice.

            "I'm not surprised," the older man chuckled, putting his hand on Simon's shoulder and gently pushing the boy towards a pair of very comfortable-looking armchairs in the corner of the large office.  Simon considered, for a second, resisting his godfather's gentle leading.  But his impassive approach had practically convinced the older man that he was insane. Being a little more honest and a little less defensive might change the governor's mind, and if the governor's mind could be changed, then maybe he and River would be able to get back to _Serenity_.  That's all that mattered, getting back to _Serenity.  _

            "You were four when you gave me this for Christmas," the governor said, sitting down in one of the overstuffed chairs, Simon followed suit.  "You'd picked it out yourself."

            Simon let himself smile and chuckle, "For Christmas I gave you my favorite candies. How generous of me."

            "The thing of it was," the governor continued.  "You never asked for one.  You would always accept them when I offered, but you never asked."

            "I suppose," Simon said, not really remembering that detail of their relationship.  "But I don't see what that has to do with . . ."

            "With your current situation?" Comworth asked.  "I'm not sure I know either.  But that always impressed me."

            "It impressed you that I didn't ask for candy?"  Simon said, a little baffled.

            "You were always very polite.  You never demanded things. I liked that about you."

            "Well," Simon sputtered, not really sure what to say.  "Thank you."

            "And what I don't understand is how such an undemanding child could grow up and demand so much."

            "I didn't ask you to kidnap us," Simon said, suddenly reconsidering his new non-defensive strategy.  "I never asked you to do or to risk anything."

            "You demanded your sister," Comworth said.  "You had to have her, immediately, and you've ruined your life and might very well ruin hers unless--"

            "Her life was already ruined," Simon snapped. "She needed me.  I saved her life."

            "You do believe that," Comworth said softly.  

            Simon closed his mouth angrily.  He'd been tricked into answering his godfather's question, and he couldn't help sounding arrogant and paranoid in the process.  

            "I wish," Comworth continued.  "I wish I could have my godson back.  My sweet, kind, godson."

            "I'm afraid you're going to have to live with the fact that your godson is a federal fugitive, wanted dead or alive," Simon spat. "I'm sorry if that's hard for you."

            "You want my compassion, don't you?" Comworth asked.

            "It's been made very clear that I can't expect it." 

            There was another long pause.  Finally, the governor said, "You can go, Simon."

            "What?"

            "Go."

            "Go where?"

            "I don't know," Comworth said, "Back to wherever you came from.  That small town Fresh Well or whatever its name was.  You can go."

            "You're letting us go?" Simon asked, amazed.

            "No, I'm letting you go.  I'm keeping River."

            "No," Simon said.  "You can't."

            "I can," Comworht said.  "I don't want to see you imprisoned or committed, or whatever punishment would befall you.  But River can still go back to her school and—"

            "No!" Simon said, pushing himself out of the chair and standing imploringly in front of his godfather.  "You don't understand.  They cut her, into her brain.  They hurt her."

            The governor looked up at the boy, sad but not convinced in the least.

            "Please," Simon said.  "I never asked for candy, I never asked for everything, but tonight I have to.  Please don't send River back.  I don't care if they put me in prison or whatever, you just . . . she can't go back."

            "I understand that separation from her must break your heart," the governor started.

            "It's not separation from her," Simon insisted.  "They hurt her.  Talk to her for twenty minutes and you'll see.  I don't care what happens to me, I don't . . . If I never see her again, but I know she's safe, that they don't have her, well, I could live with that.  But if you send her back then . . ."

            "Do you understand how you sound, Simon?" Comworth asked.  The old man looked near tears.

            "Yes," Simon said.  "I understand perfectly well how I sound.  But I'm telling the truth.  I'm not going to lie to make you feel better or instill confidence in a government which finds it perfectly all right to torture little girls."

            "So, you won't leave without River?"

            Simon hesitated.  If he left without River, it was possible that he could contact Mal and they could mount a rescue.  But then, it was also possible that he could never see his sister again, that she could be dragged off to the Core and cut into and programmed and generally turned into nothing more than a weapon for the Alliance to use.  

            "I won't," he finally said, his voice was firm with determination.  "I'd rather die than abandon her to them."

            "I see," Comworth said, this time it was his voice that was cool and detached.  "I'm not quite sure how I want to handle this just yet.  Until I determine the best course of action, you will be kept in a guestroom.  There will be an armed guard at your door and you won't be allowed to see River at any time."

            The doctor felt like he'd been shot in the chest.  He staggered back a step and for a moment he entertained the idea of jumping at his godfather and strangling the old man he loved so much.  The idea, the mental image, was so disturbing that he took another staggering step back.

            "Simon," Comworth said, standing.  The older man's voice was filled with concern and he reached out for the boy.  "Are you all right?"

"No!" Simon snapped.  He took a deep breath forced a stance of composure.  "Don't send her back. Not until you've talked to River, asked her if she wants to go."

            "You're tired, Simon, and emotional," Comworth said, walking over to his desk and pressing a small button under its edge.  The door to the outer office immediately opened and a pair of armed guards entered. "Take him to the quarters I had prepared.  Make sure that all the windows are secure and that his door is guarded at all times," he told the guards before turning back to Simon.  "We will talk again in the morning, after you've rested and collected yourself."

            "Don't you think I'm a little old to be sent condescendingly to my room?" Simon asked as a guard garbed each of his arms. 

            Comworth suddenly looked guilty, "I wish it was different, Simon," the older man explained.  "I wish you would let me help you."

            "And I wish you could help me," Simon said, just as sadly, before being shoved out the door.  

MONDAY

            "Good morning, Genie," Inara said, walking up behind the young girl and her new friend, who were both sitting at the table in the rose garden, eating breakfast.  

            "'Mornin'," Genie stared before quickly correcting herself.  "I mean 'good morning Miss Inara'."

            "Very good," Inara said.  "Now, why don't you introduce me to your friend?"

            "Why?" the new girl asked, turning her head so Inara could see her round face and deep brown quizzical eyes.  The girl was very lovely, Inara thought, with her hair pulled up in a series of braids and curls and a charming royal blue dress cut in the latest style.  She was somewhat familiar, still, Inara couldn't think of where she could possibly have made the young girl's acquaintance.  

            "It's for practice, River," Geine explained quickly, turning to her friend.

            Inara felt like her heart stopped.  She blinked, several times, and stared, very impolitely, at the young girl, who stared back innocently.

"Come on, stand up," Genie insisted, oblivious to Inara's shock.

            "Simon said it was a secret," River insisted as she followed Genie's directions and stood.  "I tried to tell him but he never listens."

            "Quit kiddin'," Genie said lightly. "I need ta know this stuff."

            "That's right," Inara said, struggling to keep her composure as her mind raced, trying to determine how and why River Tam would be eating breakfast with the granddaughter of the governor of Newhope.  River had said Simon wanted their relationship to be a secret.  Inara didn't quite understand that, but she was so surprised by the girl's sudden appearance that she decided to follow the doctor's advice blindly and figure it out later.  Simon was smart; he probably had a very good plan.  She would have hated to mess it up before he got a chance to act on it.  "And I don't think we've ever been formally introduced."

            River looked at Inara skeptically before smiling slyly.  "I'm not telling."

            "Kay now," Genie said, drawing both their attentions.  "Miss Inara Serra, I would like to introduce you with . . ."

            "To," Inara prompted.

            "Right," Genie nodded, "Introduce you to my old friend, River Tam."

            Inara took a steep forward, "I'm very pleased to meet you, River."

            "No, you're not," River said.  "You're confused and worried."

            "River, that ain't, I mean, that is not polite, to say things like that," Genie scolded as she glanced up at Inara.

            "Genie's correct, it's not," Inara said, smiling down encouragingly at the girl.  "Now, why don't you two return to your breakfasts and River, you can tell me how you came to be in the governor's mansion."

*   *   *

            "So what you people are telling me is that it's hopeless," Mal said frankly. "The bloody governors guards tramped through this forest not one day ago, and yet there ain't no clues as to where they came from or where they went."

            "Nothing is hopeless," Book said.  "Just sometimes the only hope is a miracle."

            "Ain't the fact that they was the _governor's_ guards a pretty good clue to where they came for and where they went?"  Jayne asked.  "I mean, how hard is it ta figure out?"

            "Why would the governor care?" Zoë asked, looking around the clue-less forest.  If Simon and River's lives weren't in danger she would have liked to dally in this little spot with Wash for a while, what with its soothing sounds of a waterfall and the rustling of the wind through the trees and warm filtered light and the soft forest floor.  

            "Reward?" Jayne asked.

            "Governor's got plenty of money," Zoë said.

            "But for some plenty is not enough," Book pointed out.  
            "What I want to know is how they knew the kids were here?" Mal said.

            "What, in the woods?" Jayne asked.

            "In the woods, on the planet," Mal said.  "The governor knew they were on the planet."

            "Someone could of tipped him off," Zoë suggested.  "Maybe a local who looks at the postings in the sheriff's office."

            "Then wouldn't they have told the sheriff?" Mal asked.  "Al said the governor's guards only work for the governor, no one else."

            "What if the men were working without orders?" Book asked.

            "To many humping ifs," Mal muttered.

To Be Continued . . .


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: In which Simon escapes just as a rescue plan is formed

            Wash stared the T-Rex in the eyes and tried to find some reassurance in the yellow molded plastic.  "No human ever saw you," he told the toy.  "You all died in tar pits and from dust storms and ice ages long before any human had evolved enough to even be considered a decent meal.  And yet, I know all about you.  Your bones were buried in the mountains and deserts of a planet that doesn't even exist anymore.  But still, here you are."

            The T-Rex didn't have any philosophical reasoning for his preeminence to offer Wash.  With a sigh, the pilot put the dinosaur back in his spot on the control panel where it was battling an oversized anklyosaurus.  "Ya think it'd be easier to find two kids who were here just yesterday," he muttered.

            As if in divine response to his musings, the consul in front of him chirped.  "Finally," he said, pushing a few buttons and establishing a comm link with _Serenity's_ shuttle One.

            "Hey Nara," Wash said, smiling as the companion's pretty, yet clearly worried, face appeared on the vid screen.  "How's it going?"

            "Wash, what the hell is going on?" Inara said.  

            "I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you didn't see the wave Mal sent last night."

            "I didn't notice it," Inara said dismissively.  "I had a very unusual morning. You'll never believe who was at breakfast."

            "The charming Dr. Tam and his always interesting sister?" Wash asked.

            "Just River," Inara clarified, shocked that Wash had guessed so easily.  "What happened?  How did they . . .?"

            "We were actually hoping you'd know," Wash said seriously.   "They were nabbed yesterday by the governor's guards."

            "They, you mean River and Simon?"

            "Yeah, Kaylee was there too but she just got a knock on the head."

            "Is she all right?"

            "Fine," Wash said.  "Just a little concussion."

            "What a _nian di bu_," Inara muttered to herself.  "You say they took Simon too?"

            "Best we can figure," Wash said.  "You had breakfast with River?"

            "Yes," Inara said.  "It was the oddest thing.  I guess she knows the governor from before she went to that school.  She told me she sent the governor a letter and he sent his personal transport to bring her here."

            "Did she mention the armed guards that came with the transport?"

            "She was very vague," Inara said.  "I think she was afraid of saying too much."

            "Too much how?" Wash asked.  "She knows you."

            "But Genie, the little girl I'm tutoring, was there.  River kept almost saying things, stopping herself.  I think Simon told her not to mention _Serenity."_

            "I take it you haven't seen Simon."

            Inara shook her head sadly.

            "Well," Wash said nervously.  "I guess he might be . . ."  the pilot couldn't think of an optimistic way to end that sentence.

            "What is Mal planning to do?" Inara asked after a second. Her voice was trembling a little.

            "He doesn't have a plan yet," Wash sighed.  "Till you called we didn't even know where the kids were."

            "I'll try to find Simon," Inara said.  "And I could talk to the governor.  He's a very kind old man.  If I explain things he might understand."

            "Or he might come and arrest us all for aiding and abetting federal fugitives," Wash pointed out.  "You should talk to Mal before you make a move."  
            "You're right," the companion sighed.  "I just . . . I don't think River realized what danger she's in and Simon . . ."

            "Hey," Wash said quickly, "None a that.  Companions are supposed to be chipper and bubbly.  No one wants to sleep with a sobby Susan."

            "You'd be surprised," Inara chuckled.  "But I really should go, Genie and River . . ."

            "Yeah, hey, when can you chat next, ya think?"  Wash asked.  "Once Mal hears you got River, he'll want to start with the scheming."

            "I don't think I could get free 'till after dinner," Inara said, a little guilty.  "I had to invent a reason to steal away now."

            "So, what, like around 1800?"

            "Later," Inara said.  "Tell Mal I'll call him at 2200.  And I'll try to find out about Simon."

            "Will do," Wash said. He tried his best to smile at the companion. "See ya then."

            She tried her best to smile back at him, "Yeah," she said. "See you then." 

*   *   *

            "I will say this for Reginald," Gabriel Tam said as the Governor's transport pulled into the mansion's courtyard.  "He's brought civilization to the rim."

            "I know," Regan said, smiling sadly.  "To look around us, one would hardly believe that we're not in the ore."

            "I like the way he's landscaped the place," Gabriel was looking out the window.  He didn't want to look at his wife, he was afraid he'd catch her crying.  "It's very classic."

            "Reginald always had a taste for the classics," The woman said; she was looking at the fabric of her skirt, rubbing gloved hands over tweed, smoothing wrinkles that didn't exist.  

            The conversation dropped off there, as neither husband nor wife could think of anything else to say to each other.  

            The transport landed softly on its pad, right outside the governor's private office.  From the window the Tams could see Reginald Comworth waiting for them.  It was odd, Regan thought, that he was not smiling.  It was also odd that Genie was not waiting with him, which was the first thing she commented on once they were off the transport and standing under Newhope's warm afternoon sun.

            "Genie's in the garden, with a surprise for you," the Governor said, almost hesitantly.  "But before I take you to her, I was wondering if we could have a serious talk."

            "I'm not sure we'll be able to oblige you," Gabriel said jokingly. "We came here to relax, not be serious."

            "Of course," Comworth said, nodding.  "I don't mean to be rude, but something's happened and I didn't want to discuss it with you over the Cortex, I feel there are some things that need to be said face-to-face."

            "You want to talk about Simon and River," Regan said, with a small smile and an eager look in her eye. 

            "Reginald," Gabriel sighed, "We came here to try to get away from all that."

            "They haven't contacted you, have they?" Regan asked.  "I know Simon always trusted you so completely, I've wondered . . ."

            "Come into my office," the governor said.  "I have tea set out . . . unless you want to go rest, I know these interplanetary trips can be . . ."

            "A cup of tea sounds perfect," Regan said quickly before turning to her husband and adding, "Your not too tired, are you, dear?"

            "No, not at all," Gabriel said cagily.  "By all means, let's go into your office and talk about our wayward children."

*   *   *

            "So," Mal said.  "Plan is, Nara lets us in, we grab the kids, we get out.  Easy-peasy."

            The crew of Serenity, gathered around the Frye's kitchen table, didn't look convinced.

            "Won't there be guards?" Jayne asked.

            "We'll be sneaking," Mal said, "At night.  Guards'll hardly notice us."

            "And what if they do?" Zoë asked.

            "Well, then, ah, we shot them," Mal said simply.

            "Wouldn't that just bring more guards?" Wash asked.

            "Look," Mal said a little defensively.  "This here's just a prototype, I'm open ta any suggestions you all can give me!"

            "What if," Kaylee said softly, "What if we did it durrin' the day?"

            "Kiddnapin' in broad daylight," Jayne grumbled, "Brilliant plan, why didn't anyone think a that before?"

            "Well," Kaylee said uncertainly, "It ain't really like we gotta steal them, is it?  I mean, it's more like were helpin' them escape.  And everyone thinks 'bout escapin' in the night time and no one much worries 'bout that sort of thing in the day.  So, why try too sneak around at night when we could just walk 'round easy as pie in the day?"

            "What you know that I don't, Little Kaylee?" Mal asked, leaning towards his pretty little mechanic.

            "Nothin' much, sir," the girl said with a shrug.  "Just it ain't hard ta get in and out a the gov'ner's mansion.  Folk do it all the time with no one battin' an eye."

            "How?" Zoë asked.

            "Tours," Kaylee explained.  "Twice a day, one in the mornin' and one in the afternoon."

            "Tours?" Mal said a little skeptically.  "Governor lets people just wander round his house?" 

            "Oh, no," Kaylee said.  "There's a guide and a route ya take and they point ta a wing an say stuff like 'This is the Governors personal quarters, we can't show ya that cause he hasn't had time ta clean up his room' an' the whole party laughs. But them parties is big.  If a few people snuck off, no one'd notice."

            "Hunh," Mal said, nodding.  "That ain't a half bad idea.  And it don't put Nara in no tricky position, which I like.  But if we do manage ta sneak off and grab the kids, how we gonna escape?  I don' like the idea of tryin' ta blend River into a group a innocent tourists.  'Specially when what Jack told us makes me wonder if she'll want ta come at all."

            "What if," Wash said slowly, "We steal the shuttle?"

            "We don' know where they keep the shuttles," Mal started to say dismissively, "Nor, what kind they got, nor the types of security . . ."

            "Not one of theirs," Wash said quickly, "Ours."

            Zoë laughed softly and proudly at her husband's idea, "Steal Inara's shuttle?"

            "Yeah," Wash said, his wife's smile giving him confidence.  "Look, she could say that it was broken or something and then I could come in and say I was going to repair it.  I'll prep the shuttle for launch, you get the Tams, jump in, and we're off."

            "Couldn't that transfer suspicion to Inara?" Book said.  "I thought we didn't want that."

            "Not if she makes a fuss about it being gone," Zoë pointed out.  "If she play's it right, we might even be able to make a profit on this."

            "That ain't a half bad idea," Mal said with a roguish glint in his eye.

            "Seems kinda mean," Kaylee interjected.  "When I meet the Gov'ner he seemed like the nicest guy."

            "You meet the Governor?" Mal asked.

            "Well," Kaylee amended, "We all did, at the end a the tour they show ya his office and I guess most time's he makes a point a bein' there, sayin' 'hi' ta all his constituents and such.  But still, I ain't never heard a bad word against him."

            "Kaylee," Mal said, "His guards knocked you on the head and took Simon and River.  That's not exactly a nice thing to do."

            "I know," Kaylee muttered.   

            "But the tour thing is a good notion," Mal said.  "And a notion I think we can use.  Wash, how long 'till we talk with Inara?"

            "Another couple of hours, sir," Wash said.

            "Right," Mal muttered, "I guess we'll just have ta sit tight 'till then."

*   *   *

            Simon stared at the ceiling and worried.  He didn't have much else to do.

            He worried about River.  She was going to get sent back to the Academy.  She was going to be tortured and used.  She was going to be lost to him forever.  The thought of it made him sick, his stomach turning in painful knots, his throat constricting so he had to gasp for breath.  

            He closed his eyes tightly. He couldn't think about River, it was fruitless; he had to think about something else.

            He had to think constructively, find a way out.

            He opened his eyes and started thinking of plans.  He could feign injury or illness and then, when the guards came in to check on him, he could daringly grab their guns, spring up, and lock the men in the room.  Then he could sneak, unobserved, through the large mansion.  Oh, maybe he could even steal one of the guard's uniforms: then no one would suspect him.  He could grab River and they could fly away to _Serenity_ on the magic Pegasus that would undoubtedly be waiting for them if he pulled off the first half of his plan.  Simon laughed at himself.  If he was going to escape he'd have to come up with something much better than that.  

            The prospect of contacting Mal didn't seem impossible, but he'd probably have to jerry rig something or bypass some safety and he didn't know how to do that.  Kaylee would have.  He opened his eyes and stared back up at the ceiling, the sound of her pretty laugh ringing in his ears.

            Simon smiled softly at these thoughts.  He remembered how pretty she'd been outside of that church.  The way she'd smiled at him, at River.  His stomach started twisting again.  He remembered how her pretty face had turned into a scowl when he'd started heaping judgment on her for being less chaste than he'd assumed she'd been.  He remembered River saying she'd been hit in the head and fell down.  If Kaylee had been killed, or was seriously injured, it was his fault.  So not only had he cruelly insulted Kaylee, the sweetest, kindest, most joyful and all around wonderful, person he'd ever know, but she could be dead, and it would have been his fault.

            "Stop," he told himself, closing his eyes again.  Worrying about Kaylee was as futile as worrying about River.  "This won't work," he muttered, rolling off the bed.  "The key is to be goal-oriented.  My goal is to get River out of here. Before that can happen I need to be free. I need to find River, and I need to convince her that we should leave.  That could take some time, so I'll need to find River, hide for a while, and then it's just a matter of escaping the guards and . . . that's enough for right now," he said.  "In order to escape I'll have to . . ."

            His voice trailed off as he heard an unusual squeaking noise.  He paused and listened for a moment.  It seemed to be coming from the ceiling in the bathroom attached to his chamber.  Very cautiously he walked over to the doorway to the bathroom and paused, leaning on the doorframe, watching as one of the panels in the ceiling moved. "Huh," he said softly to himself.  "I wouldn't have thought of that."

            He watched for almost a minute before there was a loud crack and the panel fell from the ceiling onto the tiled floor in the spacious bathroom, and with the panel there was a man.

            "Auuughhh," The man groaned as he laid writing on the floor.  Simon was so shocked that, for a moment, it didn't occur to him to run up and help the obviously injured man.

            He was drawn out of his shock by a banging on the door of his chamber.  "Dr. Tam," the guard's voice called through the thick wood.  "Are you all right in there?"

            "Ah, yes!" Simon called.  "Just a little accident in the bathroom.  I'm fine though.  Thanks for checking."

            Simon waited expectantly to see if the guard would believe him or press the point, demanding to come in and be sure that the governor's beloved godson was not hurt in any way.  But after a tense moment, Simon realized this particular guard was not that dedicated.

            "Are you all right?" the young doctor asked the groaning man on the bathroom floor.

            "Man, that totally sucked," the man, who was not much older than Simon said.  He had shaggy blond hair, an unusual tattoo around his right eye and was wearing a jumpsuit not unlike the ones Kaylee usually wore.  "_Gan tian hua ban."_

            "Can you move your feet?" Simon asked.

            "Someone should fix that ceiling," the man said, turning seriously to Simon.  "That could have killed me."

            "Yes, it could have." Simon said, a little bewildered.  "Can you move your feet?"

            "Dude, I just feel through a ceiling," the guy said.  "Move your own humping feet."

            Simon stared at the man for a second, amazed.  "I'm a doctor," he finally said.  "I want to make sure you're not badly hurt."

            "You got any painkillers?" the man asked hopefully.

            "No," Simon admitted.

            "_Dai dai gan mei yong yi sheng!"_

            "Well, clearly, your lungs are working just fine," Simon said tersely.  "What hurts?"

            "My humping _zao gao_ back mostly."

            "Kindly prove to me that you haven't snapped your spine by moving you're feet."

"What happens if I snapped my spine?" the man asked.

"In all likelihood, a very painful surgery followed by six months of recovery."

            "An' if I can move my feet?"

"Then we can move you to the bed."

            "_Yu tian bu yu yu yuan qi wei de di di qian yi sheng, you qi ni!" the man muttered, wiggling his feet.  "Ya happy?"_

            "Very.  You've probably just got a sprain. Nothing to worry about," Simon said, walking around the man and kneeling down behind his shoulders. "Now, I know this will hurt but if I tried to carry you, we'd both end up with sprained backs."

            As gently as he could, Simon eased the man who'd fallen through the ceiling up and half led, half carried him to the very soft, very comfortable bed as the man swore in Chinese under his breath the whole way.   By the time Simon had him reclined with pillows supporting his neck and a blanket to keep him warm, the doctor and his family had been cursed several times in several different, creative, ways, back several generations.  Simon felt particularly bad for his mother's father's father who was cursed to have chickens peck his face until he was so ugly no woman would willingly sleep with him so that Simon would never have been born.

            "There you go," Simon said.  "Are you comfortable?

            "My humping back's killing me!" 

            "Yes, well," the doctor said, hedging away from the bed back towards the bathroom.  "There's not really much I can do about that."

            "Ain't you a doc?"

            "Well, yes," Simon said, looking into the bathroom up towards the hole in the ceiling.  If he dragged the chair from the desk in his chambers into the bathroom, he'd be able to reach the hole without a problem.  "Are you a mechanic?" he asked, glancing back to the injured man on the bed.  "Is there a maintenance catwalk up there or something?"

            "Yeah," the guy said.  "Some of the com wiring runs though those ceilings.  A day ago we got some wired local transmission, I was tryin' ta figure who hacked it when your _la shi_ ceiling gave way."

            "I see," Simon said.  "And the catwalk, it leads to what, a maintenance closet somewhere?"

            "Yeah, you gotta climb a ladder, which I won't be doin' for a gorramn humpin' while," the man muttered.  "You don' got any alcohol or anything?"

            "I'm afraid not," Simon said as he walked fixedly towards the desk and grabbed the back of the solid wood writing chair.  "You're back is just sprained, it will be fine.  You'll want to get a lot of rest and not stress it."

            "What, like, stay in this bed?"

            "Excellent idea," Simon said as he carried the chair into the bathroom.  "You ah, you just, you stay right there and call if you need anything."

            "What?" the guy said, craning his neck so he was, more or less, looking in the general direction of the bathroom.  That hurt, so he quickly turned back to stare at the ceiling above him.  "You goin' up ta the crawlways?"

            "I, ah," Simon called from the bathroom, his voice was strained as he tried to pull himself up into the hole.  "I want to see what kind of conditions you've worked under." There was a grunt as the doctor finally swung himself on to a secure crossbeam.  "You understand, don't you?" Simon called.

            "Uh," the man called back.  "Yeah, I guess."

            "Just lie there and rest," Simon yelled.  His voice began to sound muffled and distant.  "I won't be gone too long."

            "Yeah," the man muttered.  "You got it." It seemed odd that the doctor would need to crawl around in the ceiling, or would want to for that matter.   But he was a doctor, and who was Bester to question what a doctor thought was best?

To Be Continued . . .


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: In which we discover exactly what Mr. and Mrs. Tam are thinking

            River stared at her hands in horror.  They were turning red.  Everything was turning red. She was still sane enough to know that the color red was in her brain; that it wasn't real.   But that only made the world's sudden tint change even more frightening because she also knew that soon she wouldn't be able to remember the world with more than one color and she wouldn't know what voices were real and what voices were fake and there would be screaming and monsters and darkness and cold.  A tear streamed down her cheek.

            "River, dear," Inara's calming voice said.  The girl could feel a steady hand on her shoulder and another stroking her hair.  She hoped that she wasn't that far gone yet; she hoped they were real.  "Are you all right?"

            "It's leaving. It's almost gone," the girl choked.

            "What's the matter?" Genie asked, glancing up from her calligraphy practice sheet.

            "My body's running out," River said, her blood-red hands were starting to shake.  "It's the only explanation.  Soon I won't know, and it won't matter and you'll want to lock me in my room again.  Because I won't know."

            "River," Genie said, leaning across the table, "That don't make sense."

            "Doesn't," Inara corrected quickly.  "River, we don't understand you."

            "And all my words will be lost," the girl said, truly crying now. Her speech came in gasps and her whole body was shaking.  

Inara stepped around the chair so that she was next to the trembling girl and pulled her close in what she hoped River would interpret as a protective embrace.  

"And no one who listens could hear and all the voices will scream and the darkness will come in the night.  Oh, God . . ." River sobbed.  "She can't make it stop.  It's started and it won't stop until she's gone."

            Genie looked up at Inara, horrified by her friend's sudden and disturbing speech.  The companion had no comforts to offer.  "Genie, dear," the companion said.  "You need to go get your grandfather.  Tell him that River is very upset."

            "She's talkin' crazy Miss Inara," Genie said, pushing away from the table slowly.  "This's gotta be a game or something."

            "It's not a game," Inara said a little snappishly.  "Go get your grandfather.  And get her brother, too."

            "Papa said Simon's not quite right in the head," Genie said, backing away from the scene but much, much too slowly.

            "Yes, well, River obviously is having some troubles of her own," Inara said, her patience growing thin.  "Please, Regina, your friend needs you to go get her brother!"

            Genie nodded, looking pale and frightened and nearly worried sick.  Still, she managed to turn and run out of the Rose garden with the same exuberance with which she tackled every task.  Inara was very glad that Genie, and not any other girl of her age and class, had witnessed River's episode.  Genie was the kind to forgive and offer compassion to one who suffered from nervous fits, that and she could run three times faster in a dress than anyone Inara had ever known.

*   *   *

            "When you wrote me and told me Simon was having emotional problem's with River's prolonged absence, I didn't realize how bad it'd gotten," the Governor said.  "To steal his sister . . . Were there any warning signs?"

            "All of them," Gabriel said.  "He was overtly paranoid, confrontational, obsessive . . ."

            "We thought if we intolerant of his behavior he'd realize how inappropriately he was acting," Regan said, regret lacing her voice.  "We didn't take him seriously, treated him like a child and now . . ." She dabbed the corners of her eyes with a small white handkerchief.

            "This may seem like a harsh question but, if you could do it over again, how would you have handled the situation differently?" Comworth asked, hoping his question didn't sound too pointed.  

            "I'd make sure the boy got medical help," Gabriel said without hesitation.  "He's so brilliant; it's such a shame. With the right kind of help he could still have made an impact. In research, perhaps, something where he'd have minimal contact with patients.  This didn't have to be the end of his career."

            "So you wouldn't have taken him seriously?" Comworth asked.

            "You didn't hear him," Gabriel said, before Regan could answer.  "The things he said, the things he did . . . it was impossible to even humor him.  It was all just so ludicrous."

            "The reason I ask . . ." Reginald started, but he was interrupted by his office door being thrown dramatically open and a gasping Genie running up and grabbing his arm.

            "Papa, Papa," she said, not even noticing the Tams.  "Ya gotta come quick. River's all crazy and Miss Inara thinks she needs Simon but you told me . . ."

            "My God," Regan gasped, springing to her feet, "Genie, did you say River?  Do you have River here?"

            The girl turned, startled, "Mrs. Tam," She said, blinking and confused.  "Where'd you . . .?"

            "Please tell me it's really River," Regan said, taking a pleading step closer to the young girl.  "My own River."  Her eyes were moist but she didn't bother raising her hankie to wipe the tears away.

            Genie nodded silently, ogling the Tams as if they were ghosts.  "She's kinda goin' nuts though," the girl said slowly.  

            "River," Regan gasped, tears flowing freely out of her eyes now.

            "Is that why you asked us here?" Gabriel said, standing to put two supportive, bracing hands, on his now-trembling wife.  "Because they contacted you?"

            "Yes," Comworth said. He was, at this point, the only one still sitting.  "I didn't want to go through official channels. I didn't want your children to be hurt."

            "Where is she?" Regan said.  "I have to see her."

            "Genie, would you . . ." Comworth said.

            "'Course, Papa," the girl said, stepping forward and taking Regan's hand.  "I'll take you right to her," the girl said as she led the older, very troubled woman out.  "But you gotta know, she ain't a pretty sight just now . . ."

            "You said 'children'," Gabriel said, easing himself back into a chair so he could look his old friend in the eyes, as soon as his wife was out of the room.  "You have them both?"

            "Simon is here, too, yes," Comworth said.  "But he's not  . . . he's like a different boy."

            "I know," Gabriel said sadly.  "I had such high hopes for him . . ."

*   *   *

            Simon eased the maintenance closet door open and looked, very cautiously, up and down the hallway.  It looked empty, and entirely unfamiliar. "_Qiong cangn fu zi wo,_" he muttered, carefully stepping out of the small room and closing the door behind him.  Now that he'd escaped, he'd have to find a way to prowl the grounds unnoticed.  That wasn't going to be easy.  Especially considering that the maintenance man with the sprained back would probably raise the alarm sooner rather than later.  

            He'd have to be very careful, he thought, as he crept around down the hallway, every one of his senses keen, trying to figure out where the guards were, where the cameras were, where the exits were.  He edged his way, sticking to the shadows, treasuring the mild form of darkness that fills building in the late afternoon when the light of the day has faded but no one's yet thought to turn on the lights.  

            Simon reached the end of a hallway and found that he must chose between turning right or left.  He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and listened very carefully.  There were definitely steps coming down the hallway, but the echoes on the polished marble made it difficult to tell from which direction the noises were coming.  Simon ducked into a deep, shadow-filled doorway that lead he knew not where.  He'd wait for the footsteps to echo away and then he'd continue in his search for River.  Maybe by the time he found her, it'd be late at night and they'd be able to sneak out unnoticed.  Then all he'd have to do is scrounge up enough credits to send a wave to Mal in Sweet Well and they'd be as good as safe.

            And he'd never see his godfather again.

            And he'd have purposely and finally cut all ties with his former life.

            Simon buried his face in his hands and pressed down on his eyes so hard the darkness turned into light.   He couldn't think like that. He couldn't have regrets.  Regrets were for people who had choices.  He didn't have choices.  He had River and the only road he could take was the one that lead to her, to her being safe, to her getting better. 

            He became aware that voices were accompanying the footsteps.  They were hushed voices, it was a very private conversation, but as soon as Simon could distinguish the first few intonations of each voice, he knew exactly who was approaching and he found his hands shaking and his heart beat quickening and his resolve wavering.

            "I understand that perfectly," his godfather's voice said firmly but quietly.  "And he has changed, but he doesn't sound mad, or irrational.  I spoke to him in detail just last night and his thoughts seemed clear, as did his determination to protect River."

            "Protect River from what?" Gabriel Tam asked. His voice was a little louder that the Governor's, its slightly incredulous tone and absolute unshakabilitly were so familiar that Simon couldn't mistake the voice, no matter how much he wanted to.  It was his father's; his father was here.  If he left, he'd have to not only leave his godfather, but he'd have to leave his father, and undoubtedly his mother as well, again.  He'd have to steal River, their own daughter, from them -- again.  He'd have to break their hearts -- again.  And he'd have to break River's heart -- again.  And he'd be breaking his own heart -- again.

            In his dark corner, Simon felt like someone had just heaved a load of sandbags or a huge chunk of lead onto his back.  He could feel his chest constrict; he couldn't breathe.  The doctor sunk to his knees, leaned his back against the wall, and covered his mouth as he gasped for breath. He willed himself to be totally silent, not to move, not breath, if he could have, he would have willed his heart not to beat.  

            "Surely he doesn't still cling to the delusion that her school was hurting her?" Gabriel continued.

            "Is it a delusion?" Comworth wondered.  "He's so persistent and he was always such a cautious boy, he never, never jumped to conclusions. He had such a scientific mind."

            Gabriel muttered something Simon couldn't quite hear.

            "That's unfair," Simon's godfather snapped.  "Did you ever even consider, perhaps, the possibility that he could be right?"

            "Be serious, Reginald," Gabriel scoffed.  "She attended a government run academy.  Lord Terrence Harritt submitted her name for consideration.  The Secretary of Education himself took us on a tour of the facilities and explained the program.  Then, months later, Simon takes some perfectly normal sounding letters and constructs the most ingenious code out of nothing, forcing them to say what he wanted to hear."

            "I can't imagine Simon wanted to hear that his sister was being tortured," Comworth said, levelheadedly.

            "He wanted to hear that she needed him," Gabriel amended, audible disgust for his son's actions creeping into his voice.  "So he created a scenario where only he was clever enough and noble enough and loved her enough to notice it."

            "It just seems, though," Comworth pressed, "that he was so happy in the hospital.  His letters, they were so excited.  I can't imagine that he would just leave that."

            "He's not well," Gabriel said.  They'd paused, right at the fork in the hallway.  Simon, deep in his protective shadows, could see them standing and talking.  His father looked older, somehow, but he couldn't pinpoint the cause.  He was standing straight and proud, his suit immaculate, his shoulders squared, his shoes polished: the perfect businessman.  But there was something else, a sort of hardness in his stance that Simon had first noticed when his father had bailed him out of jail.  Something about the way the corners of his mouth and eyes seemed frozen, or maybe how very straight his shoulders were and how his hands never seemed to relax, the muscles always looked tense. 

            "There is another factor in this," Comworth said softly.  "I'm convinced that saying Simon's mad is too simple an answer."

            "You were always too generous with him," Gabriel said.  "We all were.  If we had –"

Simon never got to hear his father's regrets because the discussion was interrupted by another voice that forced the boy to close his eyes.  He could feel hot tears store up in his eyes but he wasn't going to cry, he wasn't going to make a sound, he had to stay secret.  

            "Gabriel, Reginald," his mother's voice called down the hall. 

            "Regan," his father said, surprise and a little perturbed at having his conversation interrupted.  "I thought you were going to River."

            "Reginald," Simon heard his mother say.  Her voice was more troubled than he'd ever heard it, and that frightened him.  "River is manic. What's happened to her?"

            "I don't know," Comworth said.  "Simon insists . . ."

            "Simon is not well," Gabriel snapped.

            "And neither is River," Regan insisted.  "She's frantic, calling for him. Reginald, please, I'm her mother and . . ."  The woman's voice trailed, she was too heartbroken to finish her sentence.  Simon understood exactly how she felt.  

            "Come on, then," Comwoth said, taking Regan's forearm gently and leading her in the direction the two men had been originally heading.  "We'll fetch Simon and see what sense can be made of this mess."

            "Quickly," Regan said, glancing behind her, presumably towards River, "It's not good for her voice, screaming like that . . ."

            Simon, hunched in the shadows, listened very intently as the steps faded into the distance.  Once he was sure they had gone reasonably far down the hall and wouldn't hear or see him, he slinked out of his hiding spot.  If he could just reach River, grab her and then run off before his parents realized what he'd done there was hope. 

"I can do this," he whispered under his breath as he gazed down the hallway, first in the direction his parents had gone, then in the direction he hoped would lead towards River.  

"This . . .," he muttered, turning decidedly towards his sister, "This is doable."  But as he jogged down the hallway, he couldn't help but throw cautious and sometimes longing glances behind him.  "Defiantly," he told himself, a little louder. "I can . . . I can do this."

*  *  *

             "River," Inara pleaded, reaching out towards the girl who continually batted her hands away.  "Please, just -- just calm down."

            "No!" River screamed.  "Listen to my words; they come out like blood from a wound and they stain the pretty silk dress.  It's ruined and we pretend it's just grape juice and change clothes and go back to the party!"

            Inara had nothing to say to that; she changed subjects.  "Simon will be here soon, River, sweetie, just . . ."

            "The doctor can't fix it.  The surgeon can't sew it.  He puts bandages on it but the bandages got dirty and infected and now there's more blood!"

            "Riv—" Inara started but then she heard rapid, almost panicked footsteps behind her.  She turned around and saw Simon speeding towards the gate of the guardian.  For a second, she left the girl to her hysteria and rushed to met Simon. 

            "_Zan yang fo tuo you're here," Inara said, not registering the look of utter shock on the young man's face.  "River is totally out of control. I haven't seen her this bad since we had the reaver on board."_

                "I—Inara?"  The doctor finally managed to stutter as the companion took his arm and started pulling him bodily towards his sister.  "What are you . . .?"

            River screeched, high-pitched, horrified, "The ghosts are coming back!  They'll drag us down, down to the graves, the blood stains on the pretty dress will be covered with mud and lavender when they bury us."

            "River," Simon called, setting his shock at seeing Inara aside as he ran to his sister.  "River, calm down," he knelt in front of her, firmly grasping her flailing arms; his clear blue eyes steady as a lighthouse trying to guide his sister out of the tempest in her mind.  "River, I'm here; you're safe."

            "Simon," the girl gasped, calming a little as she sank into her brother's embrace.  "It went away.  And the world is red and I'm seeing the ghosts."

            "Shh, shh, _mei mei_," Simon soothed.  "It's all right.  Everything is going to be just fine."

            "It ran out," River sobbed.  "And I'm slipping."

                "The medicine," Simon realized.  "You're talking about the medicine."

            "It's all bloody," River whimpered.  "It hurts."

            "I know," Simon said, lifting himself up and his sister by proxy.  "It's gonna be all right; we'll get back to _Serenity and . . ." At the mention of the ship, Simon suddenly remembered that they weren't alone in the rose garden.  Still holding his sister close to him, he turned to Inara, who looked almost pale with worry._

            "What are you doing here?  Where's Mal?"

            "I was hired by Governor Comworth to tutor his granddaughter.  I heard you were kidnapped."

            "Yeah," Simon said, glancing around for guards.  "We're escaping now.  I don't suppose you'd know the quickest way out?"

            "As a matter of fact, I don't," Inara said.  "But, Simon, where would you go?"

            "We'll . . ." Simon said, "We could . . ."

            "Mal knows where you are," Inara said.  "He's going to come. And I don't think you are immediate danger. It might be best to wait."

            "What if the ghosts are real?" River said, her voice sluggish and distant.  "Can you be a ghost and not die?"

            "No," Simon said shaking his head fervently.  "We can't stay, that will only . . ."

                "There was a woman here, Simon," Inara said, putting a kind hand on the obviously frightened young man.  "She said she was your mother."

            "She is," Simon clipped, pulling his calm, but clearly inconscient, sister out of the rose garden roughly. 

            "Simon," Inara demanded.  "I need to know what's going on!"

            "Later, just. . . just, not now.  Now we have to get out, we need to . . ."

            "Simon," River said, her voice was less murky, more insistent.  "I think the ghosts are real."

            "Tell Mal we'll be in the city, hiding," Simon said quickly as they reached the edge of the garden.  

            "This is madness," Inara said, grabbing the boy's arm, trying to pull him back into the garden.  "You won't be safe out there, you know that.  You're safe enough here until . . ."

            "If we stay, now, I . . . I don't think we could leave," Simon said, turning to look at the companion, and the intensity in his eyes made her gasp.  She had known that his briskness was a result of fear, but she had assumed he was afraid of the governor, of the guards, of being caught.  But Simon's eyes told a different story.  He was afraid of himself, afraid that his courage would falter, and his dedication break and all his struggling and suffering would end up being for nothing.  Inara realized that he wanted more than anything else to stay, and that was why he couldn't waist a moment in leaving.  "And," the boy continued shakily, "I'm sure Mal could find us we just . . . we can't stay."

            Inara nodded; she was about to tell the young man that she understood.  A series of confusing lies were already forming in her head which, when told, would hopefully give the brother and sister enough of a head start to evade capture. But, before any of those lies took a true form, she was distracted by River, who suddenly and violently pulled away from Simon, shoving her brother into the garden gate and running back into the green sanctuary.  

To be continued . . .


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: In which everyone talks but no one listens to Simon 

                Simon was stunned and a little disoriented--River had shoved him with more force than either he or Inara would have given her credit for.  The whole gate rattled at the force of the blow and Simon's knees gave way as his breath was knocked out of him.  The companion's first thought was to make sure the young doctor wasn't too badly hurt. She rushed over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder as she started to kneel down.  "Simon."

                "I'm fine," The boy said, although his voice sounded slurred.  "Jus' get . . . find River."

                "Simon you should . . ."

                "I'm fine," he insisted as he pulled himself back up to a standing position using the fence as a brace.  He turned to look at her, presumably to convince her that he was fine, or perhaps snap at her for not following his instructions, but before he could say anything, he winced in pain.  Inara gasped, as he turned towards her she saw that there was a huge gash on his head, just over his right eye, spewing blood.

                "No," Inara said, taking his arms more firmly. "You need a doctor."

                "Head wounds look worse than they are," he said, pulling his left arm away from her, pressing it against the cut.  "We have to find River."

                "You have to sit down," Inara insisted, holding on to him tenaciously as the boy tried to untangle himself from the companion.  His eyes were scanning the garden, trying to find his sister among the greens, browns and reds of the rose bushes.

"You can't wander around the villa trailing blood with River screaming at the top of her lungs," Inara insisted, holding on to the doctor, forcing him to listen to reason.  "That's not going to help matters."

                "We can't stay here!" Simon insisted.

                "You can," Inara insisted, and then, in a more hushed voice; "Mal knows where you are, he's going to come."

                Simon shook his head, woefully, "You don't understand. I can't see them.  Not after what I did."

                "Your mother?" Inara asked, bewildered. "Simon, you saved your sister she's going to . . ."

                "No one's going to believe me."

                "You can't know that," Inara said. She was pleading him in a very womanly way, her body bending, always moving just a little.  She felt a little guilty, playing her companion tricks on him, but this was his life, and River's, and he was not thinking clearly.  She had to appeal to his emotions because that seemed to be what he was running on.  

                "I do know that," he said, starting to nod his head.  Then he winced in pain and closed his eyes.  

                "Sit down," Inara ordered.  "You're not thinking.  Mal is —"

                She was interrupted by a high-pitched, tear-soaked, voice calling "Simon!"

                The two _Serenity_ crew members froze for a second.  Simon, who still hadn't opened his eyes, muttered, "_Xian, fou_."

                Inara turned her head to see Simon and River's mother running towards them.  The governor, another man who Inara assumed to be Simon and River's father, and a host of guards, followed her.  

                "Oh, Simon," Mrs. Tam said, running up to her son who stood there, eyes closed as if clinging to the childish belief that if he didn't see it, it wasn't really happening.

                She wrapped her arms around him, and started bawling into his chest, while everyone watched.  Inara felt like a voyeur.  Simon wouldn't have wanted anyone from _Serenity_ to see him like that, like a lost child.  She looked away.

                "Son," Mr. Tam said, his voice was hard and, despite herself, Inara turned back to the family drama.  She felt she needed to know what would happened to Simon next, she told herself it was for Mal, for his plan, and ultimately for the Tam children too. It was, after all, their rescue.  

                Simon opened his eyes and turned towards his father. Somehow, even though his once-white shirt was now a dirty brown-gray and blood washed over half his face, he looked strong, proud, and nobly defiant.  "Hi," was all he said.

                "Hi!" Mr. Tam yelled.  The older man's face grew red, his eyes, which were the same pretty blue-gray as his son's, bulged.  "You run off!  Leave your job, leave us!  You abduct your sister! We don't see you for months and all you say, all you can think to say, is 'Hi'?!"

                "Hi, Dad?" the boy asked.  Inara tried not to laugh.  Simon could be very entertaining when he was terrified.

                "Don't yell at him!" Mrs. Tam said, stepping away from her son, positioning herself between him and her husband, a protective, loving, unmovable wall.  "We all know what happened, yelling won't solve a thing."

                "I have a right to yell!" Mr. Tam said, looking at his son over his wife's head.  "We've been through hell because of his selfish actions!"

                "Selfish?" Simon said appealing to his father.  "I certainly didn't gain anything personally by leaving.  Everything I did, I did for River.  All you have to do is talk to her and you'll see that  . . ."

                "You're diluted," Mr. Tam said dismissively.  "We can't trust a word you say."

                "How very convenient for you," Simon spat back.  "I, however, can't dismiss reality so casually."

                "The reality is that you need medical help," Mr. Tam insisted.  "You're not right."

                Inara looked away again.  She didn't want to be here.  She didn't want to see Simon struggle like this.  Perhaps most importantly, she didn't want anyone to see how angry she was getting on Simon's behalf.  

                Governor Comworth must have felt the same way, because he walked up to her, and touched her arm gently, drawing her away from the bickering family. "I think we should leave them to themselves for the moment, don't you?"

                "Indeed," Inara said softly.  "I hope that they can come to an understanding."

                "Regan has a gift for finding understandings," Comworth said.  "Is River in there somewhere?"

                "She ran off and hid.  Simon wanted to take her away."

                "Yes," the governor sighed as he led Inara out the gateway to the garden into the thick marble halls of his villa.  "Simon.  We found the maintenance man in his room lying on the bed with a sprained back and a large hole in the bathroom ceiling."

                "That sounds like an interesting story," Inara said gravely.

                "Simon is very good at seizing his opportunities," Comworth said, in the same grave tone.  "Add to this his life is charmed with the most uncanny good fortune."

                Inara had to literally bite her tongue to keep from laughing in the governor's face. Everything Inara knew about the boy lead her to believe that too much good fortune was not Simon's cross to bear. In the short time of their acquaintance the young man had not only been hunted by the Alliance, but also beaten by a total stranger, nearly burned at the stake, and just about suffocated to death on his birthday. 

It's true that, sometimes, misfortune would find a formerly lucky person and stick with them.  Still, Inara found it hard to believe that Simon fit under that category.  The boy never complained, never talked about how things could have been, he never even seemed to expect anything to go his way; all proofs that his life in the Core had not been charmed. 

                "You know," she said, trying very hard to sound like she had no greater experience than one rushed conversation in a garden.  "I understand that you've known him all his life, and, of course, so have his parents.  But I can't help but feel, and please don't take offense, that you are somewhat blind to who he really is."

                "Really?" the governor asked, more amused than anything else.

                "I know it will be easy to discount my observations," Inara said, trying to make herself sound as innocent and legitimate as possible.  "But you must remember that Companions are trained in reading men, in understanding them in an instant."

                "Is the male so easily dissected?" the governor asked, his tone was still amused.

                "Some more than others," Inara said, chuckling lightly.  Because, after all, she didn't know Simon, she didn't care for him, or for his sister, and she certainly wasn't trying to rally an accomplice in the conspiracy to steal the siblings back to _Serenity.  "And I won't say that Simon is an open book, far from.  But he's not mad."_

                "You know this?"

                "It's obvious," Inara said flippantly.  "The only thing more obvious than the fact that he's completely sane is the fact he adores his sister."

                "No one questions that," Comworth said, his voice was less amused, almost suspicious.

                Inara smiled, "And now my keen senses are telling me to drop the subject.  I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude on such a private matter.  It's just I hate to see someone suffer for crimes others commit."

                "What do you mean?"

                "Well, someone hurt River," Inara said, as if this were the most obvious thing in the 'verse.  Which, in a way, it was.  "Clearly it was not Simon because he loves his sister and is not insane.  But, because you, and their parents, don't see this fact, he's going to be punished, or something, I suppose."

                "The world is very clear to you," Comworth said.  There was admiration in his tone, not suspicion.  Inara smiled very naturally and breathed a little easier.  

                "Some parts more than others," Inara laughed.  "Other's lives are always easier to understand than one's own."

                "If that is the benefit of Companion training, I'm starting to think it should be given to everyone."

                They both laughed.  This was good, Inara thought.  She'd made the governor critically rethink the assumption that Simon was mad and she'd done it without revealing any of her personal knowledge of the young doctor.  The governor didn't even suspect that she had any personal knowledge to reveal.

                "I do have one question though," Comworth said casually.

                "Well, then, please ask."

                "Who is Mal?"

                For a second, Inara lost all her composure.  He knew -- he'd overheard something or he'd somehow figured it out.  She didn't know what Simon had told him. She didn't know what River had let slip.  She didn't know how much the guards had discovered when the kidnapped the siblings.  But, as she pretended to cough to hide her shock, she reminded herself that she'd talked to Wash, and he hadn't said anything about guards or police.  The best path would be total denial, at least, until she knew more.  "I'm sorry," she said, pressing her hand against her chest.  

                "Do you need a glass of water?"

                "No, no thank you," Inara laughed.  "I'll be just fine. What was that question again?"

                "Who is Mal?"

                "Who is . . ." Inara said uncertainly, shaking her head.  "Mal, was it?  Am I supposed to know the answer?"

                "I imagine you do," Comworth said, regarding the companion slyly.  "When we walked in on your conversation with my poor godson, you were telling him that Mal is . . . going to do something, I assume."

                "My conversation with Simon," Inara said, thinking as quickly as she could.  "Oh," she finally said with a careless laugh.  "You misheard.  I said ill.  Ill is going to befall you if you leave.  I was trying to talk him out of escaping."

                "I see," Comworth said after a moment.  
                "I can understand how that would sound confusing."

                "Yes, well," the governor said.  He looked a little embarrassed; Inara felt a little sorry for him.  "Given the circumstances, perhaps you should take the rest of the afternoon off."

                "That's very generous of you, sir.  But doesn't Genie need . . ."

                "Genie will be too worried about her friend to concentrate.  Dinner is at 20:00, I'll expect to see you there.  Until that time, there are some matters of state . . ."

                "Of course sir," Inara said, smiling graciously, innocently, at the governor.

                He bowed, very genteelly at her, and then turned and hurried off towards his office.  Inara stood for a moment and watched him go.  Then, after taking a very deep breath, muttered "_Nage__, neige tai kao long, " before hurrying to her shuttle so she could tell Mal everything that had just happened.  _

*   *   *

                "Genie," Governor Comworth called into his granddaughter's suite.  There wasn't an immediate answer.  "Genie, are you in here?"

                "No!" The girl called.  "I'm not in here, go look somewhere else."

                Comworth laughed and stepped full into the room.  This was their game, their code.  She was miserable and wanted to be comforted, she just didn't want to ask.  

                The Governor walked up to her closet and knocked, "Can I come in?"  He didn't wait for her to answer before he opened the door and found her scrunched in the back corner, leaning on the soft cloth of all the pretty dresses she owned but never wore.  When she was much younger, and her dresses where much shorter, she'd created a world for her toys in this closet.  It was her favorite pay room, totally cut off from the outside world.  It was still her sanctuary.  He stepped in, as he had a thousand times before, he was the only one who could.

                "All right, sweetie, tell me."

                "River's rutting nuts," the girl said, not bothering to look up at her grandfather.  She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, lacing and unlacing a pair of dress boots she'd worn only once and were, surly by now, too small.

                "She's had a very difficult time but . . ."

                "Oh, papa," Genie said, shaking her head wisely.  "She's gone."

                "Gone?"

                "Remember how she was always clever, always makin' jokes."

                "I remember you two laughing a lot."

                "She's not like that.  Not no more . . . not anymore."

                "People change, people go through hardships and they change," he reached out and pulled his granddaughter's pretty face up towards his.  "People go through puberty and they change."

                "_Bu zhe ban," Genie said, shaking her head._

                "You and River were never very close, you have to admit," the governor said, hoping a different angel might brighten Genie's perspective. 

                "We weren't pen-pals or anything, but we were close when we were together," Genie insisted.  "But that's got nothing to do with it."

                "I'm not sure what it is," Comworth confessed.

                "You spent all your time with Simon and the Tam's, which was shiny 'cause River and me, and, and I?"

                "I," Comworth said, nodding.

                "Well, anyways, we would just play around, explore, whatever.  River was carefree. She was kooky, but not psychotic."

                "River is not psychotic."

                "She's not the same," Genie insisted, shaking her head.  Her eyes were cool, set, convicted.

                "Are you afraid of her?" Comworth asked with a note of bewilderment in his voice.  "Is that why you're hiding?"

                "No," Genie said with a sigh, shaking her head. "Nope."

                "Well, then, why?"

                There was a moment's pause; finally the girl settled on, "I'm sad."

                "Sad?"

                "Sad for her, I mean, she lost something.  She's not happy."

                "Genie," Comworth said gently. "You know, she was kidnapped, that kind of trauma .  . ."

                "She was kidnapped from a school by her older brother who she idolizes!" Genie said.  "That's most kid's fantasy."

                "Fantasy's aren't all they are supposed to be."

                "I'm really scared for her," Genie admitted, yanking on the pink boot laces.  "She's gonna . . . well, she ain't gonna . . . I don't know."

                "Come on, Genie," her grandfather coaxed. "I want to know what you think."

                "She's really hurt," Genie said.  "In her head.  I'm sad 'cause she's hurrin' so much, and I'm scared 'cause I don't think she'll ever get better."

                "River's parents are here, they'll be sure to see that she gets the best care available."

                "She'll never be like she was."

                "I suppose . . ."

                "Somebody, somebody not Simon, messed her up, but good."

                "You can't possibly know that."

                "Ya only gotta talk to her ta see she's messed up."

                "I mean about Simon."

                "Right, 'cause Simon would totally do that."

                "You just admitted you didn't really know the boy."

                "Oh come on!" Genie said, exasperated, picking up one boot and throwing it violently over her grandfather's shoulder and hitting the closet door with a loud thump.

                "This is a complicated situation."

                "River's torn up," Genie said as thick tears of frustration and compassion rolled down her cheek. "It's like someone took a rake to her brain and mushed it all to _di_ yu_."_

                "She's just traumatized."

                "Losin' both yer parents," Genie said, looking at her grandfather seriously.  "That's trauma.  I know all 'bout trauma.  River's been more'n traumatized.  She's been ta hell and back."

To Be Continued . . .


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: In which everyone eats dinner and feels miserable 

                Dinner at the Frye household was a somewhat morose undertaking.  Wash had downloaded Inara's wave and _Serenity's_ crew had listened to it once, and then again, and then, at Books prompting, a third time.  Kaylee asked her mother if they could have dinner alone.  Nora put up a fuss, but Al convinced his wife it was for the best.  He was wise enough to understand that, while Kaylee was happy and safe on _Serenity, that didn't mean they had a right to, or should even want to, know all of the things that went on on that ship.  _

                "It just seems," Wash said, shattering the silence as they all, with the exception of Jayne, stared at their plates.  "I mean, should we maybe see if the kids even want to be rescued before we go all out and break into a Governors palace?"

                "If they think Simon's the one who's done that to River, I'm thinking he at least might want some rescuing," Zoë observed.  "Kidnapping, child abuse, that's some pretty serious jail time."

                "But Simon didn't do that to River," Kaylee pointed out.  "Everyone's gotta see that."

                "No," Mal said.  "Simon and River's parents ain't keen on what's real, only what's neat."

                "How do you mean?" Book asked, implying, 'how could you know?'

                "When the doc figured out that thing with River's letters, they didn't believe him."

                "We don't know that," Book pointed out.

                "We know the boy's got no help from any side.  He's got no money and no protection, side from ours.  He started out runnin' blind, no where to go, no one to go to.  That don't sound like a situation where Ma and Pa were behind him all the way."

                "We don't know that he ever told his parents."

                "He spent all his money, left his cushy job, and jumped headlong into a fugitive's life without tryin' ta solicit his parents, _her_ parents help first?" Mal asked.  "I appreciate that you don't wanna think ill a folks ya don't know, preacher, but no one's helped those kids.  No one but us."

                "But that was then, wasn't it?" Kaylee asked.  "I mean, Simon said no one'd seen River for years.  After they see her, maybe . . . "

                "Inara made it pretty clear what Mr. and Mrs. Tam thought after seein' River," Mal said.  "Anyways, all this is a moot point."

                "Sir?" Zoë asked.  

                "We've been assumin' he'd get due process of the law, or what have you," Mal said.  "Which, considerin' how 'special' River seems to be, I don't find too likely."

                The table fell into an uncomfortable silence.  No one, with the possible exception of Jayne (who was too busy eating to comment one way or the other), liked the thought of Simon in prison.  But the dark, unknown prospect Mal had just presented, none of them had dared think.  It was made all the more horrible, because everyone knew it was true.

"We're still on ta talk with Inara in a couple a hours," Wash said, trying to make his voice sound hopeful. "Might be best to wait.  Hear if she's got any new insights."

"I'm sick a waitin'," Jayne said, his mouth full of home made mashed potatoes.  The rest of the table looked at him, bewildered.  

"You eager ta get the doctor back?" Mal asked, arching his eyebrows.

                "Well," the large mercenary said, clearly uncomfortable under so many inquisitive stares.  "Not . . . I'm just sick a all this talk and all this waitin'.  I wanna do something."

                "Yeah, well," Mal said, turning back to his own dinner, small portions, all untouched.  "You ain't the only one."

*   *   *

                "Simon," Regan said sharply. "Get you're elbows off the table."

                The young doctor, who's elbows were indeed on the table as his chin rested in his palms and his fingers tried to massage the splitting headache out of his temples, did not do as he was told.  Instead, he sent his mother a silent, spiteful glare.

                "Don't look at your mother that way," Gabriel snapped.  "How dare you?"

                "I'm a criminal, Dad," Simon said, lifting his head and letting his arms rest on top of the table, elbows and all. "I've done all sorts of improper and impolite things." 

                Inara, who knew better, glanced at him, but didn't say a word.  She couldn't blame him for being surly.  As they feasted on roast beef, honey-glazed carrots, whipped potatoes, and lime sherbet, he picked at a skinny roast beef sandwich.  A discrepancy which, Inara thought, he could probably tolerate, if the reasoning behind his poorer fair had been logical, not because he was too unstable to be trusted with silverware. 

                Governor Comworth sat at the head of the long, formally set, table.  Genie was to his right, and Inara was across from her.  River, pail, trembling, and muttering to herself as she ignored the food and everything else around her, sat between Genie and Regan with a full place setting of shiny forks and knives in front of her.    Gabriel was sitting at the end of the table, his eyes were continually, accusingly, fixed on Simon, who was sitting to Inara's left.  This was, easily, the most uncomfortable dinner party the companion had ever attended.

                "You're not helping your case, young man," Comworth practically growled.

                "I have a case?" Simon said, mock surprise coloring his voice.  "I didn't realize I hadn't already been tried, judged and sentence."  He laughed coldly, "I mean, you've already condemned River to madness so . . ."

                "Condemned River," Inara said, turning first to Simon, who doggedly refused to look at her.  Remembering herself, and their current position, she turned to Comworth.  "What does he mean?"

                "This isn't really your business Miss Serra," Gabriel grumbled.

                "They won't give her any medicine," Simon said, staring at his sandwich.  "They think it's causing her psychoses."

                "Oh," Inara said, forcing herself not to react beyond that.  She pulled the napkin on her lap up to her mouth and hid a quick sob.

                Genie looked about as pained by River's predicament as Inara was.  She leaned forward and addressed Gabriel with a frankness edging on uncivilized.  "She obviously ain't well, sir," the girl said, then, turning to her friend, said.  "Sorry River."  

                If River understood or even heard the comment she didn't react.  

                "And, could givin' her that medicine for a little while really hurt?  I mean, she ain't . . ."

                "Isn't," Inara corrected, her voice was trembling a little. "And, Genie, dear, don't drop your G's in the present participle phrase."

                "She isn't," Genie continued, passionately, "Isn't gonna, go_ing to, get any better if y'all ignore that she's not right."_

                "And what sort of medical expertise qualifies you to make that assertion?" Gabriel asked.

                "Well, Simon said," Genie started.  
                "Oh," Gabriel harrumphed, "Simon."

                "Let her finish," Comworth snapped.

                "Simon said that she was taking medicines.  If she's acting like this on account of stopping the medicines. . . . before, I mean, she was still off, ya know, but she was a little like the River I remember."

                "Before she talked," Inara observed.  

                "Before she had the ability to tell the difference between her nightmares and reality," Simon observed, glancing up at his sister.  "Or, at least, the self possession to understand that the nightmare wasn't a reality. Didn't you River?"

                Her brother's direct address must have penetrated River's world on some level, because, without looking up, she laughed and nodded.  "The ghosts caught us," she said.  "They caught us both and now we'll live haunted lives.  We'll be see-through, invisible, and every day will be a horror story."

                "River," Regan said, putting her hand gently on the young girls shoulder.  "River, are you listening to us?  Can you understand?"

                The girl turned her head so quickly that her mother jerked her hand back.  "I hear everything," River told her mother.  "I hear the secrets people don't tell me, and I hear the lies people tell themselves," the girl said with an eerie seriousness, then, laughing, she added. "Just, sometimes, I can't tell the difference." 

"River," Simon said a little desperately.  "You don't have to answer any questions."

                "Children who disobey don't get their dessert," River said, looking intently at her brother, smiling.  "But I remember.  Mary Antoinette could tell you that some things are more important than cake."

                Simon stared at her for a second, then, smiled softly and leaned back in his chair, apparently relieved.  

                "What does she mean?" Gabriel demanded of his son.  "Is this another one of your codes?"

                "This is River," Simon said.  His tone was serious, but Inara knew him well enough to hear the hint of a smirk in his words.  The boy had the distinct advantage of having reality on his side; she hoped he was wise enough to, when the time came, keep his gloating subtle. "Who she is now."

                "River," Regan said, drawing back her daughter's attention. "You know we love you, don't you?"

                The girl turned to her mother, reached out, and touched the woman's cheeks, "'Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked , thinks no evil.'"

                "What the _di__ yu is she rambling on about?" Gabriel asked._

                "It's from the bible," Comworth said.  

                "What does it have to do with anything?"

                "River's developed her own type of logic," Simon said.  His voice was soft and distant as he stared at the interaction between his mother and his sister.  

                "'Does not rejoice in iniquity," River continued. "But rejoices in the truth; Bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.'"

                "Oh, River," Regan, said, tears welling in her eyes.

                "It says 'Love never fails,'" River said, her hand drooping away from her mother's face and turning to Simon.  "It doesn't say 'love comes', though, does it Simon?"

                "I got stuck on the part where 'love believes all things' and 'rejoices in the truth'," the doctor said, a little pointedly.

                "But it should say love comes," River insisted, clearly getting upset with St. Paul for his grievous omission.  "He was writing about Jesus and Jesus came.  That's why he was important. The preacher explained it all.  I can draw a picture."  Her eyes started darting around the table for something to write with and write on so she could recreate one of Book's evangelical sketches.   

                "River," the governor said, crisply after a moment, catching the girl's, and the rest of the table's, attention.  "Before you can bear, believe, hope or endure, you have to be there.  You have to have come."

                For a second, the girl just stared at him, with an open mouth and a quizzical expression.  Then she broke into a smile.  "I knew love came," she said triumphantly, before turning to her brother and sticking her tongue out, as if to indicate her victory over his assertions. 

                "We came, River," Regan said, excitedly.  "We came here for you, and for Simon."

                "No you didn't," the girl said, shaking her head.  "You came here for yourselves."

                All the color drained from Regan's face.  She turned quickly to look at Gabriel, who was just as shocked at his daughter's pronouncement as his wife.  "That's not kind, River," Gabriel said.

                The girl shrugged, "I wasn't going to get dessert anyways."

*   *   *

                Inara looked tired, almost haggard. "God, you look like hell," Mal noted.

                "Thank you," the companion said, smiling at the captain sarcastically from the vid screen.  "You always know just what to say."

                "I take it the governor's mansion isn't quite a paradise."

                "I've been so worried about Simon and River," she said, her voice shaking.  Mal realized that Inara had been struggling to hold her cool, unconcerned composure for over 18 hours.  He'd been able to swear, and scheme and kick things to express how incredibly frustrated he was.  She'd been trapped, forced to lie and watch and pretend she didn't care.  "I feel ill.  I haven't' eaten all day."

                "You should sit down," Mal said, regretting his inconsiderate greeting.

                "I am sitting down, Mal," Inara snapped.  "But I wish I were pacing."

                "Well, just, take a deep breath, make yourself some tea and try ta relax.  I can wait."

                "No," Inara sighed, "No, we should talk now."

                "Kay," Mal nodded.  "You wanna start, or should I?"

                "Do you have any good news?" she asked, the smallest hint of desperation in her voice.

                "Ah, no."

                The companion sighed and rolled her eyes.  "What do you want to know?"

                "Are the kids in any immediate danger?" Mal said.  "We got a plan, but for it to go smooth we'll need least a day.  Or, we could be a little less subtle.  In _Serenity_ it'd only take 'bout twenty minutes to—"

                "No," Inara finally interrupted.  "No, they . . . I think they're safe, for now.  I mean, as long as they are here, in the Governor Comworth's villa, I know they will be safe."

                "You know I trust you," Mal said.  "But I'd feel a hell'of'a'lot better if you could give me some assurances."

                "The day's been so hectic," Inara said, taking a deep breath and looking up at her shuttle's plain gray ceiling.  "I'd hate to repeat myself."

                "I'd rather that than have anything left out," Mal said.  "Best start at the beginning."

*  *  *     

"Here, Simon," Governor Comworth said, handing the boy a fine china cup filled with coffee. 

The young doctor took it sullenly. "Thank you," he said, very quietly.

"Sugar?" The governor said, an almost coaxing tone in his voice. "Cream?"

"No," Simon shook his head.

"What?" Gabriel harrumphed. "I've never know you to drink your coffee black. Is this part of your knew criminal image?"

"Some decorum, Gabriel," Comworth said in a low, commanding voice.

"What's the point?" Gabriel said. "Pretending we're all civilized when my son here has made it clear that he has no desire to act as such."

"Because I don't want cream and sugar?" Simon said, lifting his head. As he'd been lead into Comworth's study for what had been described to him as a serious discussion, he'd promised himself that he wasn't going to react to his father's prodding. It seemed clear to Simon that his godfather was eager to figure out what was really going on, and his father was eager to have the whole mess cleaned up. 

It was possible, Simon knew, that he'd be able to convince them he was not insane, but that River was, and that the best course of action would be to let the two of them go and slip off into the darkness of space. True, it was a very, very slim possibility; he was probably more likely to be struck dead by lightening as he sat there. Still, while that possibility existed, he felt he should do everything in his power to make it happen. And not smirking at his father was one of those things. Unfortunately, at times, Simon couldn't help himself.  "I never realized polite society was so strict about after dinner refreshments."

"I'm just trying to understand what happened to you," Gabriel said, with enough fatherly concern in his voice to make Simon feel guilty. "I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but the changes in your behavior, both drastic and subtle, are disconcerting. I hope you can appreciate that."

Simon nodded and when he spoke his throat was oddly dry. "I can and I'm sorry."

The apology seemed to catch the two older men off guard, "Sorry, Simon?" Comworth asked as he lowered himself onto a couch, facing Simon in his stiff-backed chair head on. Gabriel Tam was had sunk into a plush chair perpendicular to his son, which suited them both, as neither were quite yet ready to look in the other's eyes.

"I am," Simon said, nodding, staring into the black depths of his coffee. "This whole . . . I never wanted . . . I did what I thought I had to do. Nothing I did was ever malicious. It's hard to see that, I'm sure, because I know what I did . . . it hurt you." The boy glanced up to his father and for the briefest second their eyes meet. Simon quickly glanced back to his coffee, "And it hurt Mom and, probably, other people."

"You have quite the ability to underestimate the effects of your own actions," his father observed icily.

"The boy is apologizing," Comworth snapped. "If you're so determined to prove you're civility you might think about accepting it."

There was a cold silence as both Tam men sulked, trying to find a way to accept what the other had said. When the governor finally shattered the silence, his voice was crisp and filled with a forced brightness. "Simon, I think it would profit us to know what you've been doing, what you and River have been doing, for these last months."

"What we've been doing?" The young doctor said, looking up to his godfather, intentionally avoiding his father's glare. "I don't think . . ."

"Yes, Simon," Gabriel prompted. "Where were you two off playing as your mother and I desperately longed for any word, wondered if you were dead or alive, fenced the most atrocious questions any parent--"

"I think that's quite enough, Gabriel," Comworth snapped. "Your son apologized, what more do you want him to do?"

"I think I deserve an explanation," Gabriel said.

"I can't tell you where we've been," Simon asserted, before it was asked of him again. "I wish that I could."

"Why can't you?" Comworth asked.

The boy sat, with his mouth open, searching for the right thing to say for a moment. Finally, his eyes returning to the dark coffee, he said, "People helped us, people I'm not going to betray."

"By telling us about your lives you'd hardly be betraying . . ." Gabriel started.

"You have money and influence," Simon said, his eyes darting up, meeting his father's and holding the stare. "They don't. You should be grateful to them . . . what they did . . . but, I don't--don't think you see it like that."

"There was a substantial reward for you and your sister," Comworth said. "They knew that, and still hid you?"

"You sound skeptical," Simon observed.  "You can take River's and my presence here as proof." 

                There was another chilled silence in the room.  Simon's point was well made, and truthfully, indisputable.  But of all the things he'd said, this somehow seemed hardest to accept.  Simon was not a genuinely amiable fellow; everyone who knew him knew that. It wasn't that he wasn't kind, or wasn't generous, or wasn't in possession of a host of likeable qualities.  But an unusual combination of natural shyness and well-deserved self-assurance tended to keep his more pleasant character traits hidden to new acquaintances.  It seemed inconceivable that he could have found people who would take him in at all, and even if such people were to be found, they would surely sell the boy and his sister for the substantial reward.  

                It was as if Simon's father and godfather didn't believe that anyone other than his family could find a way to accept him.  A notion with which Simon would have resigningly agreed with up to the point Mal had come back for them on Jiangyin.  River had stumbled onto a surprising truth that night at dinner, Simon realized.  His parents may have conceived him, housed him, fed him, taught him, and indulged him his entire life.  But when he and River had been in their most desperate strengths, Mal had been the one to come.  And Simon would not betray the pirate to his parents, not if his life depended on it.

                "Well," Comworth said finally.  "I suppose the fact that whomever you've been with has valued your freedoms over a cash reward speaks highly of them.  Still, we do have a right to know."

                "Speaks highly?" Gabriel scoffed.  "Simon is a criminal; he's undoubtedly fallen in with criminals who protect him to protect themselves."

                "Is that true, Simon?" Comworth asked, clearly upset by what Gabriel had suggested.

                "In . . . in part," the young doctor admitted, quickly adding, "But River and I have been  . . . it's been a while, now and . . ."

                "River," Gabriel said, his voice was sharp with condemnation.  "In the state she's in, the state you put her in . . ."

                "That school put her in that state!" Simon interjected.  He was ignored.

                "Is being cared for by criminals," Gabriel looked at his son with a newfound disgust.  "Instead of being taught . . ."

                "She wasn't being taught she was being tortured."  
                " . . . by the finest faculty in the Core, she's being schooled by some group of boarder world dunces on the finer arts of pocket-picking and grift."

                "They've taken care of us," Simon asserted.  "It doesn't matter what insults you fling, the fact of the matter is that River and I would be dead if not for their aid."

                Before the words were fully out of Simon's mouth, Regan Tam burst into the study, a nightgown-clad River being dragged behind her.

                "Simon," Regan said with all the motherly authority her voice had ever possessed as she presented the girl to her brother.  "Explain this to me at once."

                Simon was about to tell his mother that he couldn't explain River, when he realized that she was not upset about her daughter as a whole, but rather the fresh red scars up and down the girls forearms. "_Fan shi bei_" he muttered.

To Be Continued . . .


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15: In which Simon gets his way and Mal doesn't

                Gabriel and Comworth both stood and walked over to discover what had upset Regan enough for the protective mother to drag her daughter out of bed. Simon was pinned in the armchair by innocent River, who had been thrust so close to him, forced to stare at the red scars running up and down her arm.

                "I told her," River assured her brother, who was as pained at seeing the arms now as he had been when putting the cream on them.  "Punishment.  She didn't believe me.  She said it wasn't right."

                "This looks like abuse, Simon," Gabriel said with a just anger.  "Those criminals you've been cavorting with . . ."

                "They didn't do it," Simon said, wishing he could stand and look his father in the eye.  "I didn't do it.  River did it."

                "River cut herself?" Regan said.  "Simon, how could you . . ."

                "But I did," the girl said, trying to turn to her mother.  Regan, however, was behind her daughter, so she ended up talking primarily to Governor Comworth.  "Simon wouldn't punish me--he couldn't.  I did it.  I kissed a boy and I . . . I fell over the waterfall."

                "Fell over a waterfall?" Gabriel demanded of his son.

                "It's a metaphor," Simon sighed.  "That's practically the only way she speaks anymore.  Haven't you noticed?"

                "River, you told me it was a punishment," Regan said, spinning her daughter around so that the tips of her brown hair flew in Simon's face.  

                "It was," River insisted.  "I thought it was.  I was confused."

                "Confused?" Gabriel harrumphed.  "What do you mean? You don't remember who cut you?"

                "I remember," River said.  "I remember everything."

                "River, who did this?" Regan pleaded.  "Was it Simon? Was it one of his bad friends?

                                                                                                                                                    River laughed.  "They're not his friends," she said.  "They pity us, they adore us, they respect us, they mock us.  You mix it up, it doesn't turn into friendship."

                "River," Simon said although he didn't know why.

                She turned to look at him and smiled softly.  "They're better than friends, aren't they?" She asked.  "They're like a family."

                Simon smiled sadly back up at her and nodded, "They are like a family."   

                "Did someone in this family do this to you River?" Gabriel asked again.

                "River did it," the girl said.  "For punishment."

                "Do you want an explanation?" Simon said, from behind his sister, "Or are you going to continue asking River questions?"

                "River can speak for herself," Regan said.

                Simon didn't respond.  He figured they could talk to River for as long as they liked, but eventually they were going to need him to make what sense was to be made out of what she said.  He didn't worry for a second that she'd betray the crew of _Serenity_.  She'd promised, sort of, and Simon trusted her implicitly.  While the adults tried to understand what she said, he might as well enjoy his coffee, which was just about at the perfect temperature by now.  

                "River, dear, please can you tell me exactly what happened, sweetheart?" Regan asked, a little desperately.  

                "Why does Simon get a drink?" the girl said, looking again over her shoulder at her brother.

                "You never mind Simon," Gabriel said, taking his daughter by the shoulders and leading her over to the couch.  He plopped her down, and he and Regan sat on either side.

                "I could get you something, sweetheart," Comworth offered.  "Not coffee, but perhaps hot chocolate?"

                "See, Simon," River said, leaning forward away from her parents,  "I told you Uncle Reggie would have Hot chocolate!"

                "Yes, River, you did," Simon nodded. 

                "But no tag, though," the girl sighed, leaning back into the couch.  She turned to her parents, "Genie has to be a lady."

                "River, please," Regan pleaded. "Tell us what happened to your arms."

                "I told you," River said.  She seemed baffled that her parents hadn't picked up on her explanation the first time.  "I had to be punished."

                "What for?" Gabriel asked.

                "Jack," River said warmly.  "I thought I was bad, but Simon was sinking." She leaned forward a little and started to whisper, as if she was afraid they'd be overheard, "He said they were wrong.  He said that . . . that Jack was ok." She leaned back again and smiled.  Her voice was warm and happy again, "Simon said that."

                "Who's Jack?" Gabriel said.

                "He's got brown eyes and short hair," the girl said, her voice dreamy as she blushed prettily. "He dances and he laughs, and he doesn't think mean things ever, and he smiles at me."

                That was not the answer her father was looking for.  "Simon," he sapped.  "Who is Jack?"

                "Jack," the boy said, looking up from his coffee.  "Is everything River said.  He's a boy, about her age.  They danced, they played, innocently, and they kissed, again, innocently.  But River, she . . . what they did to her, for three years . . . she didn't know how to deal with her emotions." 

                "And you expect us to believe that she cut her own arms because she kissed a boy?"  Gabriel said.  "Simon, that is sick."

                "No argument here," the boy said.  

                "How could you?" Regan gasped. "I thought you loved your sister.  I thought what you did, however wrong, was out of love."

                "She told you," Simon said, trying not to show how crushed he was by his parents' lack of trust.  He knew he'd done things they saw as horrid.  He knew they wouldn't understand.  But he hadn't realized that they could ever even think that he'd hurt River. If they could think that of him, Simon realized, they probably could, and did, imagine a host of other terrible things about his character.  "She did it to herself.  I . . . I stopped her."

                "No, you didn't," River laughed.  "Ca . . .he did.  You know, HIM."

                "I know, River," Simon nodded.  He felt like he was going to start crying.  He took another deep drink of his coffee and hoped no one noticed.

                "Here you are, River, dear," Comworth said, handing the young girl a cup exactly like Simon's only filled with creamy hot chocolate.   

                "Thank you, Uncle Reggie," River said sweetly.  "You give good treats.  We always said."

                "You're welcome," Comworth said, smiling at her.  "River, will you promise to tell me the absolute truth, no metaphors or lies, no matter what."

                "No," River said as her smile slipped and her pretty brow furrowed.  "She can't make promises.  They won't let her keep them.  And if a train leaves from Ariel moving at three hundred kph and another train leaves two hours later from Persephone moving at six hundred kph they'll crash and everyone will die."

                "That's not very pleasant, River," Gabriel said.  "Uncle Reggie just gave you a drink. Be polite."

                "I'm trying to explain," River said.  "I don't want anyone to die."

                "No one wants anyone to die," Comworth soothed.  "We just want you to tell us plainly how your came to hurt your arms."

                River's mouth twisted itself into a frown and tears started to well up in her eyes.  "I told you, over again and twice.  I apologized and I didn't do it again."

                "It's all right, River," Simon said, quickly putting down his coffee cup and rushing over to his sister.  As he fell onto his knees in front of her, he marveled that no one had yet stopped him.

                "It's not all right!" River screeched.  She was starting to shake.  Simon quickly grabbed the hot chocolate, which was being shaken out of the cup and raining into the saucer, and put it on the floor behind him, vaguely registering that his godfather picked it up and placed it on the coffee table.  "They don't believe me!  They think I'm a liar, that I spin stories like old spiders spin webs!  They think they're a trap and if you get caught the black monster with a million eyes and eight legs comes and you get eaten.  Simon, I don't want to die!"

                "You're not going to die, River," Simon said, holding his sister's hands firmly in his, her eyes locked with his.  "You know you are safe here."

                "I can't answer any more," River said, her little well of anger lapsing out into just sadness.  "I can't."

                "No more questions," Simon promised her, asking in the same breath, "Do you want to finish your hot chocolate?" 

                "Too sweet," River sniffed.  "I like what we have at home."

                Simon smiled up at his sister, and wiped a tear off her cheek.  "It's time for bed, _mei__ mei.  It was time for bed a while ago."_

                "I don't wanna sleep," River said.  "I ran out, remember."

                "I remember."

                "They'll get me at night."

                "No, they won't," Simon said.  "Because you're here.  It's safe here."

                "You don't believe that," River said.

                "You do."

                "Will you come, if I have  . . . if they . . ."  she said, too afraid of her own nightmares to finish the sentence.  

                "That's up to Mom and Dad," Simon said, for the first time breaking eye contact with his sister and glancing to his father on her right and his mother on her left, both of whom where watching the whole interaction with confusion and concern.  

                "They don't believe, do they?" River asked, leaning forward, whispering.  "They played ball in the house and the pretty vase got broken.  They think it can be glued back together.  But it can't, too many pieces.  And you try to pick them up but there're sharp and you cut your fingers and blood leaks out all over the clean white carpeting."

                "River, it's all right," Simon said, reaching up and gently touching her face.  She leaned into the touch and smiled, even as she was crying.  

                "Now three things are ruined," River said.  "The pretty vase, the white carpet, and you."

                "She's talking gibberish," Gabriel said, breaking the enchantment River had spun over the room.  Everyone but River took a deep breath, as if they'd been holding it through the girl's tirade.  And everyone's but River's eyes fell quickly to the ground, a way from the girl's pretty face.

                "River, dear, your brother is right; it's time for bed," Regan said, wrapping her arms around the girl and pulling her up.   

                "Can't sleep," River said.  "The walls are too thick and the hallways are too long."

                "It will be all right, River," Simon said, standing and stepping out of the way, allowing for his mother and sister to glide out of the room.  

                "Of course it will," Regan said.  "I'll sleep with you.  I'll keep you safe.  Mother's are much better than brothers at keeping the nightmares away."

                River regarded her mother skeptically as they exited.  "You can't see the monsters you don't believe in," she told the elder woman.  "That's the trick, how they get you; they make it so you don't believe."

                "A mother can scare away any monster," Regan assured her daughter as they left the room.

                "Not a monster you don't believe in," River insisted, her voice made it clear how very afraid she was.  "It's how they get you.  It's their best trick."

                There was a moment of silence as the men listened to ebbing intonations of River and Regan's conversation drift down the hall. When they were truly gone, Simon took a deep breath and said, "I can explain the cuts."

                "So you did cut her," Gabriel said, looking at his son with a near passionate hatred.

                "No!" Simon insisted.  "She did cut herself and if you will listen for a minute, I can tell you why."

                "I have heard quite enough of your pathetic, obtuse explanations," Gabriel said, his voice rising.

                "Now, stop," Comworth interjected.  "Simon hasn't gotten much of a chance to explain anything."

                "When we ask it of him, he refused," Gabriel said.

                "Than perhaps we should take advantage of his offer," Comworth insisted.

                "Just because he feels he's finally constructed a good lie . . ." Gabriel started.

                "That's hardly fair," Comworth snapped, then turning to Simon, said, "Please, I want to hear a logical explanation of why River's arms are covered in gashes."

                Simon swallowed and took a deep breath.  "That school . . ."

                "Oh, it's the schools fault," Gabriel interjected.  "Perhaps the teachers cut her?"

                "Be quite," Comworth told his old friend harshly.  

                "They did experiments," Simon said, raising his voice to match the other men's.  "They cut into her brain."  His father opened his mouth, undoubtedly to say something about how ridiculously paranoid his assertion was. Simon kept talking, didn't give him a chance. "You don't have to believe me.  Bring in another doctor; have a neural scan done.  There are scalpel scars riddling her gray matter.  The amygdala is totally gone."

                "What does that mean, Simon?" Comworth asked.

                "The amygdala coordinates the actions of the autonomic and endocrine systems and is involved in emotions," Simon said, quoting perfectly from classical medical texts.  "In layman's tearms: it regulates your feelings, regulates your response to them.  

"She went off into the woods and she kissed a boy.  I mean, there's nothing--nothing terribly wrong with that.  She's seventeen, she should . . . I didn't like it but it's not my place to . . ." He cleared his throat, "Anyways, most people get a thrill out of doing something a little wrong, sneaking off and such.  Most people have a moment of guilt, of self-realization, where they know they are acting irresponsibly, where they know they should be doing something else, and then they dismiss it.  It adds to the thrill, often it creates the thrill.  That's what the amygdale can do.  But River, she could dismiss her guilt, slight as I'm sure it was.  It took over and she had to find a way to get rid of it.  So, she punished herself." 

"And you let her?" Gabriel accused.

                "No," Simon said.  "I told you, she was with a boy, off in the woods.  I mean, I wasn't far, within earshot, but I couldn't . . . anyways, I heard her scream and ran to find her.  When I did she was in the middle of cutting herself."

                "But you didn't stop her," Comworth said.  "She said he did.  Who's he?"

                "He is one of the criminals I'm not going to betray," Simon said flatly.  "He did stop her, I . . . I was a little shocked, by her actions.  He's . . . he's very good at not being shocked, doing what's right and not hesitating.  I would have stopped her, as soon as my emotions caught up to my brain.  A few seconds.  That probably sounds like an excuse to you, and maybe it is.  But, if you think it's hard to look at her arms now, you should have seen them covered in blood, with this sharp bloody rock in her hand . . . and the things she was chanting . . ."

                "I'm not a doctor," Comworth said.  "Nor an expert on human nature.  But, still, what you say sounds as reasonable as any other explanation I've entertained, a great deal more reasonable than most."

                "Thank you, sir," Simon said.  His voice was hard and official but his eyes spoke the depths of his gratitude.

                "We'll find a doctor tomorrow," Gabriel said.  "Have a brain scan done.  See if your story holds any water." 

                "Thank you," Simon said again.  

                "I don't expect to find anything," Gabriel said.  "Just so you know."

                "As long as you accept what is found, I'll be thrilled," Simon said.

                "Finally," Comworth sighed.  "Something resembling a civilized understanding." 

TUESDAY 

                Mal was having a bad day.  Newhope's warm, summer-like autumn had turned to a cold-rainy autumn over night and the captain couldn't quite convince himself it wasn't an omen. And if that wasn't bad enough, Kaylee stodgily refused to take no for an answer.

                "Ain't right," the young mechanic said.  They were sitting alone in her parents' kitchen with the gray sky clearly visible through the large windows, weighing down Mal's spirits.   "The tour thing was my idea!  I got a right ta go and see it through."

                "First of," Mal said.  "This here's your family, and they miss ya.  Don't get to see them but for in a blue moon.  Wouldn't be right for me ta take you away."

                "You ain't takin' me away," Kaylee insisted.  "I wanna go."

                "Second off, you got hit pretty bad on the head not two days ago.  Don't want you risking  . . ."

                "Risking what?" Kaylee demanded.  "You think a guards just gonna konk me 'cause that's what governor's guards do?" 

                "I don't appreciate that tone, Little Kaylee," Mal said.

                "And I don't appreciate bein' left out like I ain't part of the crew."

                "That's not what's happenin'.  This has got all the potential of bein' a dangerous mission and you don't go on dangerous missions."

                "Preacher's goin'," Kaylee asserted frankly.  "And Zoë, though she's pregnant, and Wash."

                "Now, Preacher and Zoë are just for recon."

                "Then I can be for recon." 

                "Kaylee," Mal said as firmly as he could.  "The answer's no."

                "Cap," the girl said, the firmness in his voice totally irrelevant.  "I was the one ta be there when they got snatched.  I'd kinda like ta be there when they got rescued."

                "That's a fair enough request," Mal said.  "But I'm still gonna say no."

                "I'm goin'," Kaylee said, resolutely.  "And 'less you plan on tyin' me up and lockin' me in _Serenity's hold . . ."_

                Her voice trailed off as the kitchen door opened and a drenched Wash and Zoë entered the warm and dry house.  

                "_Fei__ yi suo si hun luan, hun luan zhi gou ji mao," Wash spat as he shook the water off his black raincoat.  "Wasn't it nice yesterday?"_

                "As I recall," Zoë said as her husband helped her take off her own green and brown camouflaged raincoat.  

                "Ah, Zoë, Wash!" Mal said, quite relived to have this particular conversation interrupted.  "You got them tickets?"

                "Yes, sir," the firstmate said, smiling in a way Mal didn't quit understand.  But then, the woman was pregnant and that had been known to change dispositions and temperaments, so he pretend he hadn't noticed it.

                "Yeah," Wash echoed, he was also smiling more than the situation called for, especially considering his flightsuit had gotten soaked in the torrent outside, but then, he was Wash; Mal knew better than to ask.  

                "So you see there, Kaylee, tickets ta Du Cheng been bought and paid for."

                "How many tickets ya got, Zo?" Kaylee asked, not quite innocently.

                "Six," Zoë said, quite innocently.  At Mal's scowl her smile, odd as it was, faded, as did her husband's.  "What's wrong?" She asked.

                "There's only five of us goin', Zoë," Mal said.

                "Wait," Wash said, holding up his hands and counting on her fingers.  "There's you and Zoë and me.  Then Jayne and Book and Kaylee.  That's six by my count."

                "Kaylee ain't goin'," Mal said.  "We discussed it."

                "Did we?" Zoë said, staring at her captain with what seemed for all the 'verse like genuine bewilderment.  

"I was sure she was commin'," Wash insisted. "What with her bein' there when the Tams got snatched and the tour thing bein' her idea and all."

                "Well," Mal grumbled. "We'll just have to return the extra ticket when we go—"

                "Ah, can't, sir," Zoë said, the hint of her odd smile returning to her eyes but her voice remained stoic and professional.  "No, refunds, sir."

                "Oh, ho-oh," Mal laughed bitterly, glancing at Zoë and her weird smile, then at Wash, then at Kaylee.  "Is it just me, or am I in the middle of an ambush?"

                "Ya don't wanna waste the train fare, do ya, Cap?" Kaylee asked, looking as sweet and childish and innocent as a newborn lamb.  "Them tickets ta Du Cheng been bought and paid for."

                Mal glared again, from Zoë to Wash to Kaylee.  They were all smiling at him, looking eager and hopeful, like children in front of a candy story with shiny silver dollars in their grubby little fists.  They knew they were going to get what they wanted.  "When's the train leaving?" he asked gruffly.

                "9:45," Wash said, smiling at Mal as if this tidbit of information would push the other man over the edge into generosity.

                "Well, then," Mal grumbled, "Y'all better be off packin' your bags.  We leave for the station in an hour."

                "Now, Cap," Kaylee said, taking a step forward.  "When you said 'y'all' . . ."

                "You, too," Mal said grudgingly. 

                "Oh!" The girl said with a gasp as she threw herself at Mal, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him adoringly on the cheek.  "Thanks Cap'n!" 

                "Don't you be mentioning it," Mal said, pushing the girl away and trying to stay upset at his crew for their not so subtle manipulations.  "Now get."

                "_Shieh-shieh_," the girl giggled.  "Quick as a stitch." Then, she pattered off and up the stairs to pack the required over-night bag, leaving Mal alone with Wash and Zoë, who both were now smiling quite normally.  

                "Oh, this is gonna be a fun trip," Wash said excitedly.  "You know, I can't remember the last time I slept in a hotel."

                "Oh, yeah," Zoë said with a sigh.  "Captain, you think we could find a place with a bath?"

                Mal stared at the two lovers, so smugly content with their trick and in their excitement that they didn't even see how very close to going back to plan A (jumping into _Serenity_, flying over the Governor's villa and forcibly abducting the Tams) he was, just to spite them all.  But Mal, who knew a good plan when he saw it, figured it'd probably be good karma to submit to a good plan when it was played out on him.  Little Kaylee was so happy, as were Zoë and Wash.  He honestly couldn't think of anything worse that could happen than having the three of them (Book too, if Mal knew the preacher) being contrary the whole time.

To be continued . . .


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16: In which Shepherd Book breaks the law and Kaylee is arrested

"Why don't you like sugar in your coffee anymore?" Comworth asked, giving his godson a hot mug of steaming brew as the two sat and waited. 

River was having her brain scanned by the Governor's private doctor in the Governor's state-of-the-art private medical facility attached to the villa. Regan was in there, holding her daughter's hand. Gabriel was standing over the doctor, looking over his shoulder, examining every piece of evidence, even thought he wouldn't recognize an irregularity if he did see it. 

So Simon and Comworth sat in the doctor's office, a warm room, with wood paneling and bookshelves lined with back issues of medical journals Simon longed to read, and waited. 

"It's just a preference," Simon said. 

That was a lie. As soon as his attention had been drawn to the fact he no longer liked sugar in his coffee the back part of his mind had been musing over the fact, trying to dissect the subtle changes in his behavior. As much as he wanted it to be meaningless, he knew intrinsically that it wasn't. Finally, late that night, as he'd wrestled with his sheets and strained his hearing to see if River was screaming his name in her night terrors, the answer had come to him. Sugar was expensive and a luxury. He'd never realized that, growing up, because his life has been a string of luxuries, but on _Serenity_, you made due with what you had. There was a pound of brown sugar kept in the back of the highest counter in the kitchen and brought out only for special occasions. And then there was some artificial type sweetener made of sucrose and fluoride. But it was unnaturally sweet and made Simon nauseous in even the smallest doses. 

After only a few months on _Serenity_, his life really had changed and as a result he really had changed. It felt like everything about him was different, and his parents had picked up on that too. What was even more frightening was the realization that he didn't want to go back, that he considered every change for the better. He could shoot a gun at a man, he could lie, he could cheat, he could steal, and he had a sort of glowing pride in those facts. Even drinking coffee black had a sort of rugged, manly image associated with that he found he liked. He vaguely felt that these facts, these changes in him, should have concerned him more than it did; they certainly would have concerned his family, if he were ever to tell them. 

So Simon lied to his godfather, something he'd never thought he'd be able, or even want to do. "A meaningless preference."

"Of course," Comworth said, accepting the little white lie as if it were truth.

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"What did you do for your birthday?" Comworth asked so suddenly the boy winced.

"What?"

"I was just wondering, your birthday, you were . . . with them. What did you do?"

"Nothing, really," Simon said slowly.

"You missed it?"

"No," Simon said. "There was a cake."

"Was it good?"

Simon couldn't help but smile, "Why are you even asking?"

"I worry."

"You worry that I won't have a birthday party?"

"We were all worried, about everything."

Simon hung his head, "I know."

* * *

It was raining in Du Cheng too. Dark and tumultuous clouds imposed themselves on the Governor's villa and the afternoon tour group. There were many people in the group, all talking to each other in hushed voices, pointing, taking pictures. The Shepherd who was taking fastidious notes in his guide book was noted, because a shepherd is always noted, and overlooked, because a shepherd is rarely doing anything worth seeing. The pretty young woman in the denim jumper was noted by all the males in the group. But because the majority of those men were with their wives and or mothers, none approached her and she, with her nearly obsessive picture taking, was more or less ignored. The plan went smooth until the tour was over and the group was being lead into the gift shop where they could buy guide books, models of the house and small tin soldiers fashioned after the governor's guards. 

Shepherd Book was examining one such toy, considering buying it and then leaving it in the engine room for Kaylee to find. He wondered if she'd find it an amusing souvenir or a mean prank. He also played with the idea of leaving one in the infirmary for Simon to come across. Book could imagine the look of horror of being reminded of such a traumatic experience on the boy's face. He couldn't imagine that look of horror melting away into an amused smile. River, on the other hand, would probably adore the simple toy. Her mind was delightfully childish in its pleasures and she seemed to revel in irony. At least, that was his impression of her. But before he spent a whole dollar on this little tin man, he thought he'd better get a second opinion. He turned around and scanned the shop for Kaylee. 

The girl wasn't there. 

He gravitated towards the exit, wandering if she'd left already. But she wasn't there either. He wandered back, towards the entrance, hoping that something in the very front of the shop had caught the young girl's eye. His hopes were dashed when he saw her, looking small and alone, being escorted away by two of the governor's guards. 

For a long time the preacher just stared out the door, wondering what he should do. He could run out into the hall and demand why she was being arrested. It wouldn't be too suspicious, one of the benefits of being a preacher was that everyone assumed that men of God had a right to stick their noses in other people's business, or at least, no one had the guts to tell them to 'zou kai'

. But Book knew how government institutions worked. He would be told that she was only wanted for questioning, that she would be fine, that if he was so concerned he could contact a public advocate and submit a writ of explanation to a judge who would review it within the seven days allotted by law and, if the writ was legitimate, the guards would be forced to reveal to him why they had arrested her, where they were keeping her, and how long they planed to have her.

As poor Little Kaylee was hauled back into the depths of the governor's mansion, probably into places they hadn't seen on the tour, Book realized that it would be much better to slip out of the gift shop, unnoticed and unsuspected, and very quickly find Mal. And he did just that, not realizing until he was half way to small bar where they'd planned to meet that he'd never paid for the little tin guard he still had clutched in his hands. 

* * *

"Mr. and Mrs. Tam," Dr. Westland, Comworth's personal physician, said as he walked into his office. He had a slow, deep, drawling voice particularly suited to putting patients to their ease. "Who, did you say, diagnosed your daughter?"

"I did," Simon said. He was standing off to the side of the office with his godfather. His parents were now in the seats in front of the doctor's desk, and River was sitting, calmly and contently in her father's lap, her head resting on his shoulder. 

Westland looked over to Simon and smiled professionally, "Well, I agree with your diagnose. I've never seen anything like this but the evidence is unquestionable," he turned back to the Tams as he walked across the room and situated himself behind his desk. "Your daughter has indeed had intrusive brain surgery and, among other oddities, her amygdala is indeed missing." The elder doctor turned his attentions back to Simon. "Had you devised a treatment regiment of any kind?"

"Ah," Simon said, pushing himself away from the bookshelves and taking a step closer to the desk. "Nothing overly successful. As you can imagine treatment of this sort of wound is unprecedented, I've had minimal success with anti-psychotics, for some reason a combination of vitamin C and hatzelbyprophaline seems to make a difference as far as the nightmares go, but she seems to require a dosage increase every two weeks or so."

At this point the door to the office opened and a guard poked his head in, "Governor, sir," he said, drawing everyone's attention. "May I speak to you out here, sir?"

"Of course," Comworth told the guard, and then, turning to Westland and the Tams, he said, "Excuse me," and ducked out of the room.

"Humm," Westland said, pulling the attention back to the medical discussion. "Dosage increases every two weeks . . . not a long term solution. Have you considered a Brenzine and Tri-lippite combination? I hear that in cases of general psychoses they've proven very promising."

"I didn't have access to any Brenzine," Simon said. This conversation was the first he'd had since Ariel where he felt like a real doctor, where his medical mind was being challenged on any level. And as his mother and father watched, the criminal-Simon Tam was transformed back to the eager eyed, brilliant young physician they remembered. "But I'd read the same thing. I tried a combination of tri-lippite and Philizine, hoping that, perhaps, the calcium-diclorate was an active agent, but after a week there was no change."

"Am I to understand," Gabriel interjected. "That you've been pumping my daughter full of untested drugs?"

"The drugs were not untested," Simon said. "They all had the official stamp of the Alliance Medical Academy."

"Still," Regan said, reaching out and stroking her daughter's arm, although the girl seemed lost in a world of her own and was not responsive. "Mixing medications haphazardly."

"There was nothing haphazard in your son's application of these medicines," Dr Westland assured them. "I've been practicing since before he was born and, to my knowledge, there is no other way to treat her."

This would have been the perfect time to revel in his utter vindication, but his father didn't give him a chance. "Simon, these drugs, you said they were Alliance Certified."

"Of course," Simon said cautiously. He could sense a trap.

"Where did you get them?"

"We stole them."

Regan gasped, "Simon!"

"Would you rather I used substandard medications?" Simon asked. "Or left River untreated?"

Westland chuckled gravely, "And I thought the medical ethics scenarios we had in medacad were all far fetched."

The door opened again and Comworth reentered, he looked anxious and, although he was addressing the elder Tams kept glancing at Simon. "There's been an interesting development; I was wondering if Simon here could come with me."

"I was hoping to confer with Dr. Tam on a few more matters," Westland said, clearly disappointed.

"I'll bring him back to you, I promise," Comworth said. "But I would like this matter settled as quickly as possible and I could not see my way through it without Simon's aid."

"I suppose I could discuss treatment options with the girl's parents, but, still Dr. Tam's input would be most profitable."

"Those are not his discussions to make," Gabriel wrapping his hand around his daughter's head in a protective, possessive manner. "River is our daughter, we will decide what's best for her."

As if in response to her father's assertion, the hitherto quiet River broke into chuckles and started muttering into her father's chest;

"How different a wily old magician

Whose comic cosmos gives a thrill

From my brother, sane physician:

His words and work I trust, but still

I sense a cruelty, unearned sedition

Against him and his wisely given pill

Regardless of a cavernous division

Twixt what he may fix and what is ill.

No one can see how sick I really am

And even as he tries his very best

With this and that, and another exam

He will perform and ponder every test

For I remain a sacrificial lamb

Till he's found me quiet and I may rest"

"River?" Regan said, reaching out towards her daughter again. "What a lovely poem, where did you learn it, sweetheart?"

"Simon asked me," she said. "Then he asked me not to." She shifted, pushing her head off her father's shoulder so she could look at her brother. "What do you say?"

"What I say doesn't matter, River," Simon said. 

"Come now, Simon," Comworth said, touching the boy's shoulder and leading him out of the room. River watched, with mounting concern, as her brother left the room, and she felt cold chills run down her spine as the door was curtly closed.

* * *

"Kaylee," Simon said before he could think. The girl, whose back had been to him, turned around and an almost silly smile of relief spread across her face. She sprang out of the chair she'd been sitting in, one of two facing the Governor's desk in the large, familiar office. 

Once she reached him he could tell by her eyes that she longed to throw her arms around him, probably kiss him on the cheek. But he was followed closely by his godfather, and even Kaylee had enough decorum not to display her ferocious affections in front of such an important, dignified old man. 

She came up short, standing very close to him, and, looking like she was about to explode, said with a slightly trembling voice, "Simon, I'm so glad ta see ya."

"Can't really say the same," Simon said, examining her with a clinical detachment brought on by shock. If she was here than all his efforts to keep _Serenity_ a secret were for naught. His godfather must have figured out everything. Or, perhaps, he'd figured out nothing. True, she could have been hunted down as a member of Malcolm Reynold's crew, but what if River had been wrong and the guards had grabbed the mechanic when they took River and him? 

She was wearing the same pretty denim jumper she'd worn on Sunday, such a very long time ago, which seemed to support his theory, but she had a bright yellow raincoat over it even though the governor's office was quite warm and dry. Her face was painted, making her eyes look bigger, deeper and her lips shimmered. 

He didn't know any words to describe how pretty she was. 

Her anxious face drove away a host of other practical thoughts. He was so glad to see her well, that he couldn't really worry over how she'd gotten there, nor could he find it in himself to worry much over the implications of her presence. He reached out and very gently took her chin and tilted her head, with his other hand he brushed away her soft hair so that he could examine the large greenish bruise on the side of her head. "They did this to you?"

"Yeah," his touch seemed to relax her, as if it proved he was real and she didn't have to be afraid. "Had a concussion and everything. Threw up all over the Cap'n. He was real sweet 'bout it though."

Simon laughed and dropped her chin, letting his hands slide down the length of her arms until the found her hands. "I am . . . am glad to see you're all right. River told me you'd been hit on the head and . . ."

"They hit you?" Kaylee asked.

"What?" Simon said. "Well, yes, but . . ."

"Ouch," Kaylee said, pulling one of her hands away from his so she could point to the dark cut over his right eye. 

"That was actually River," Simon said with a wry smile. 

"She ok?" Kaylee asked, taking a step back and looking around. "She around?"

"She is around . . ." Simon said turning his head so he could look in the direction he'd just come, look back towards River. "I'm not sure whether she'll be all right or not." 

As the boy's gaze shifted the girl's followed and they both suddenly became aware of the governor standing, watching their interaction with great interest. Simon blushed, slightly embarrassed, and took a step away from the pretty girl, letting her hands fall to her sides. Kaylee gasped and her now free hands flew to her mouth as she took a terrified step back. 

"Kaylee," Simon said, quickly putting a comforting, platonic hand on her shoulder. "Don't be afraid. This is my godfather."

"I know just who that is," Kaylee said, looking at the governor with an odd combination of timidity and boldness. Her hands sunk from her mouth and remained together, tightly clasped, primly in front of her. 

As if taking a cue from the young girl, Comworth's disposition became very formal, almost grave. "Simon, do you intend to introduce us?"

"Um, of course," the boy said, feeling oddly out of place and fighting the inexplicable and somewhat inappropriate urge to laugh. "Kaylee, this is my godfather, Governor Reginald Comworth. Sir, this is my, well, my friend, Miss Kaylee Frye."

"Would you two please sit?" Comworth said, motioning to the chairs in front of his desk. 

Kaylee glanced up at Simon, who used his hand, lingering on her shoulder, to guide her gently towards a chair. 

Once seated he couldn't keep from glancing over towards her. She looked so out of place, in her simple denim dress and her bright raincoat. For a second he imagined her in that pink atrocity she'd worn to the ball on Persephone. It was slightly more appropriate or, at least, it was something formal. But that seemed even more ridiculous. As pretty as she'd looked in that, she'd looked silly as well, like a little child, and right now Simon need Kaylee to be a lady.

"Miss Frye," Comworth said, leaning forward genteelly. "Would you like some tea or coffee on this cold and rainy day?"

"Ah," Kaylee said as she glanced to Simon, her eyes begging help. She seemed unsure whether she'd be considered rude if she declined the governor's offer or greedy if she excepted it. Simon tried to look back encouragingly. Turning her attention back to the governor's general direction, although she didn't look directly at him. "No, no thank you."

Comworth looked at the girl and smiled, a gesture which only Simon saw, before turning to his godson, "And anything for you, my boy? Black coffee?"

"I'm fine," Simon said.

"Well, then," the governor said, leaning back in his chair and examining the two youths in front of him critically. His voice had a slightly colder tone in it than Simon had ever heard before, and his eyes were hard and distant. "I think that it is high time all this is clearly explained."

Simon stared at his godfather, stoically and silently; the sudden frigidity in the old man's disposition was frightening him more than he wanted to let show. Kaylee shifted her eyes to her hands, nervously squeezing her left with her right forcefully enough to whiten her knuckles. 

"Neither of you are in a position to consider this a request," Comworth warned. "I have many methods of discovering the truth, some of them very uncomfortable for all those involved, but I want to be told it, by my godson."

"Are you threatening us?" Simon asked. He was horrified at the prospect of all of _Serenity's_ secrets being unveiled before an Alliance Official who could only, in good conscious, turn the rouge-ship in. He was terrified at the thought of what some of those methods could be, especially considering that Kaylee would be the victim. But over all he was disgusted, and disappointed, and disillusioned, with his godfather, and those were the emotions that showed on his face. 

"I want you to tell me, Simon," Comworth insisted harshly. "Until now I haven't had a card to play, I dearly hoped that I wouldn't need one, that you'd tell me of your own volition. But clearly, whatever bond of loyalty these criminals have inspired in you is stronger than our relationship, one I always thought you treasured.

"I do," Simon insisted. 

"Then don't make me –"

Simon let out a bitter laugh, "Make you do what? Use an innocent girl as a trap to catch your own godson?" he stood up and leaned over the desk, letting his anger vent more than was prudent. "Use threats and manipulation and other forms of cruelty to get what you want, regardless of what's right?"

"Simon," Kaylee whimpered fearfully. He felt her tug on his arm but he couldn't look at her because if he did he knew her white face and trembling lips would make him want to comfort her, defuse his anger, and he couldn't afford to let that happen.

"These games have gone on long enough," Simon spat. "You've been pretending to treat me with respect and I believed it, believed you. But all the while you've been looking for your advantage. Finally, you've found her, congratulations. You win. I give up. Do what you've planed to, throw me to the Alliance, River too. We can be sacrifices to your career. It's not much of a change. We've been sacrifices to our parent's ambitions our whole lives. But Kaylee's not part of this; no one from _Serenity_ is. Let her go. Leave them alone!"

"Why are you protecting them so fiercely?" Comworth asked calmly. 

"Because they protected me," Simon said, his fire going out a little as he realized he said more than he meant to. "How many times am I going to have to explain this?"

"Apparently, until I understand," Comworth said, surprisingly not enraged by his godson's outburst. His icy demeanor had melted and now he just looked sad and weary. 

His godfather's lack of an emotional response was another blow to Simon's state of mind. He took a step back and collapsed into the chair, feeling shaky and uncertain. 

There was a turbid silence, so thick that Simon didn't believe Kaylee had broken it until he saw his godfather lean forward and say, "What was that, my dear?"

"I'll explain," Kaylee said again, her voice was trembling and her pale face made her makeup look all the more lovely. 

"Kaylee don't . . ." Simon said halfheartedly.

"You don't wanna betray the Cap'n," the mechanic said, turning to Simon silencing him with the conviction in her own eyes. "I ain't gonna, no fears. But the Gov'ner here he . . . well, I've never heard but that he's a fair man. If that's true, then what harm could come of tellin' him what's happened?"

"He's alliance," Simon insisted.

"He's your godfather," Kaylee said. "Have a little faith."

Simon suddenly felt a wave of guilt. Kaylee believed more in his Godfather's love for him than he did. With a sigh or submission, he folded his hands and pressed his lips in them in them, resting his chin on his thumbs. Kaylee took his resignation and formed her own resolve as she shifted her plea to the older man.

To Be Continued . . .


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17: In which Kaylee leaves a lasting impression 

                "Mr. Comworth, Governor, sir, please.  Give me chance ta explain as much as I can.  If after I'm through ya still wanna hold me and torture me, or, whatever, I guess ya can, I mean," She laughed nervously, "I ain't got no power ta stop ya.  But, please, just . . . just try ta listen, and understand, and see it from Simon's point of view."

                "That is a very tempting offer, young lady," the governor said formally.  "I'll have to accept it."

                "Be careful, Kaylee," Simon warned.  "Don't . . ."

                "No worries, Hon," the girl said, smiling at him with built up confidence.  "I can tell a story."

                "Well," Comworth said, "Go on . . ."

                Kaylee took a deep breath and dove headfirst into the untold tail of Simon and River's life on _Serenity_.  

                "Ya know River's nuts, right?" Kalyee started.  "I mean, ya'v talked ta her, and such?"

                "Yes." Comworth said.  

                "Then, ya know why he took her," Kaylee said, encouraged.  "Why he had ta."

                "I'm beginning to grasp his position," Comworth said.  "Although, it is not as easy as you make it out to be."

                Kaylee didn't seem exactly sure what that meant, she glanced at Simon.  He had nothing to offer her so she took another deep breath and plunged into her story.

                "Our ship, it's a freighter, never docks the same place twice.  We was docked in one particular place when Simon came up and booked passage.  It was the oddest thing, he was stickin' out of the crowd like a sore thumb, ya know.  Lookin' all cagey and determined.  When he talked ta me, 'cause ya see, I'm the one in charge of the passengers, well, he was all business.  How much, how far, how fast.  Didn't even notice me, didn't notice the ship, didn't notice the other passengers.

                "Weren't half way to our destination when the pilot notices someone's makin' a transmission on the cortex, signaling an Alliance cruiser.  Now, I don't think I'll be betrayin' too much when I tell ya that our Cap'n, he fought for the Independence in the war.  I mean, he's not the kind of man who goes out an picks a fight over it no more . . . well, least not often, but still . .  . he don't like the Alliance.  As I understand it, he went out ta see who was sendin' the transmission and he found Simon, lookin' after this big ol' box he had in the cargo bay."

                "Big old box?" Comworth asked, clearly confused.

                "It was River," Simon said, interjecting into Kaylee's story.  She sent him a charming smile and relinquished her role as storyteller graciously.   "When I had . . . the men who told me they'd saved River, they sent me this little slip of paper for a warehouse on . . . on a planet far away from the core.  They told me that I could pick her up any time in the next two weeks, but the sooner the better.  They said the government was already hunting for her. 

                "Well, I left immediately, as I'm sure you know.   Got as many credits as I could and I disappeared.  I traveled under a false name, went to the place they suggested, handed this . . . man my slip and they gave me a box.  And I looked at it, this huge, gray box, and . . . all I had was the foolish hope that it was River inside it.  All I could do was assume that it was.  I took the box and I grabbed passage on the first ship I found, the first ship that would take me away, quickly, that wouldn't ask and wouldn't tell."

                "A box?" Comworth asked, clearly confused.

                "It, it was a cryo box," Kaylee clarified quickly.  "I didn't know till after, I don't know that anyone did . . . I mean, any a the crew.  I'm sure Simon . . ."

                "I hadn't had much experience with them," the boy said, surging his shoulders helplessly.  "I . . . I didn't know . . . it could have been a dog, for all I knew.  It could have been the wrong person, you know, some other kid, not River.  It could have been empty.  I didn't know until . . . until he opened it and she came out.  I wanted to cry for joy, seeing her, but she was so, so frightened."  He smiled sadly to himself.  "I thought it was just the shock of the situation.  I thought it'd go away."

                "And out of the kindness of his heart this captain said he'd hide the both of you."

                "Ah . . ." Simon stammered.

                "Part where I was shot kinda got skipped," Kaylee said.  "Can I tell it?"

                "You were shot?" Comworth asked.

                "Yeah," Kaylee nodded.  "Tween when that transmission was sent and the box was open the guy who actually sent the transmission, this mole for the Alliance sent ta track down River, he shot me.  Kinda on accident."

                "Was he trying to shoot Simon?"

                "He weren't a very good mole," Kaylee said, shaking her head, as if she pitied poor Agent Dobbs.  "Anyways, I was shot real bad and Simon, he saved my life."

                "I made a deal, with the captain," Simon said quickly.  He felt it was very important that he remembered how this story had really happened.  He didn't want to let himself forget to whom he owed his safety at any given moment.  "He wanted to turn me in.  He knew the box, the box with River in it, had something to do with the whole mess, he would have turned that in too, just to avoid trouble.  But Kaylee was bleeding to death.  And I . . . I could save her.  But I wouldn't, not unless they agreed to hide me."

                "That was hardly honorable," Comworth said, sounding a little angry.

                "I know," Simon nodded.

                "It weren't his fault," Kaylee said quickly.

                "Kaylee, you don't have to . . ."

                "I do," Kaylee said.  "I'm startin' ta see that your all about explainin' yourself but ya don't want ta defend yourself.  Simon, ya saved my life, and ya saved Rivers.  You gave up everything for her.  How many times ya saved the captain's life?  Once?  Twice?"

                "Well, he was . . . I mean, his wounds if left untreated could have . . . but I'm sure--"

                "And ya've saved Zoë's life, and the preachers."

                "No," Simon corrected.  "I was being burned at the stake when the Shepherd was shot."

                "A shepherd was shot?" Comworth gasped and then, realizing, added, "Burned at the stake?"

                "Mr. Governor Comworth, sir," Kaylee said, turning her lovely brown eyes to appeal to the older man.  "Simon's done a world of good for our ship.  We want him back."

                "I told him he could go back," Comworth said.  "An offer which still stands, if he wants to take it."

                "Oh," Kaylee said, clearly surprised.  "Well, that's real good then, ain't it?"  No one said anything.  "Simon, why didn't cha go?"

                "The offer was for me, Kaylee, not for River."

                "Not for River," the girl said slowly.  "What, what'd happen ta her then, if  . . . not for River?"

                "She'd be sent back," Simon said.

                "Back?" Kaylee asked, making no pretences about sounding and looking upset.  "Ta the Academy?"

                Simon nodded.

                "Ya can't sir," the girl said passionately, turning again to the governor.  "She's just a kid.  _Serenity_ ain't perfect, and it ain't always safe and it ain't a fancy school.  But it's a place where no one's gonna hurt her.  Please, sir, we done so much ta try an' keep them, Simon and River, I mean.  Ya gotta let us keep them."

                "You seem to think of them as an inseparable unit.  I've told you, you can have Simon."

                "Simon won't come without River," Kaylee said shaking her head.  "Ya want one, gotta have them both.  'Sides, we all want River anyways."

                "Why?" Simon asked.  He'd always assumed he was the useful one and the others tolerated River.  Even Kaylee, who seemed to like his unusual sister, he suspected of being friendly out of obligation more than actual warm feelings.  And if that was the case, he thought no less of the girl for it.  He was just grateful that someone other than him was willing to be her friend.

                "She's sweet," Kaylee said, as if the answer was obvious.  "She laughs, she dances, she looks pretty in pink."

                "She cuts herself in riverbeds," Comworth observed.

                "And do you love her the less for it?" Kaylee asked him.

                "No."

                "Then why are you surprised we don't either?" she said candidly.  "'Sides, Cap's got a weak spot for all things forlorn.  Cap'n'd die for River, Simon too."

                "That's easy to say," Comworth said.  "But I find it hard to believe."

                "He's done it," Simon said, "Well, at least, very nearly.  Perhaps it'd be better to say that he's proved it."

                The Governor looked at Simon, examining to boy as if he hoped to find some evidence of falsehoods in Kaylee's account on his face.  When he didn't see what he'd expected, he turned to Kaylee. "Miss Frye, I'm going to ask you a question.  Will you answer it honestly?"

                "Ah, yes sir," the girl said, glancing once again to Simon.

                "And, Simon, you are not allowed to say a word. Understand?"  

The governor's tone could not be disobeyed.  Simon nodded silently.  

                "Miss Frye, I want you to consider a proposition.  If I were to convince you that this was the best place for Simon and River, what would you do?"

                "I already know it ain't," Kaylee said uncomfortably.  

                "Supposing I told you I could clear away all of Simon's legal troubles and he could return to working in a hospital treating patients.  And River would be given the best medical care money can buy, she would not be sent back to that school, but instead lead a normal life."

                Kaylee glanced over to Simon, to see if this offer was legitimate.  She'd been under the impression that whoever was pursuing River wouldn't quit until she was captured and dragged back to her Academy.  But that was the impression River had given her, and River was exactly the best judge of reality.  The Governor of a planet was an important man.  He could do many things and smooth many paths.  But Simon just stared at his Godfather with scrutiny, as if the question was unfair and a trick.  Still, he didn't say anything.

                "I'd, ah," the girl cleared her throat.  "I'd be real sad 'cause I know that's what Simon wants, more than anything.  I know that's what he'd choose.  And so, I know, they'd stay, and I'd leave, and I'd miss him, both of them, but then, that's life, ain't it?"  She tried to smile, but failed, and looked all the more sincere for the failure.  

                "Well," Comworth said, taking a deep breath.  "I don't see that there's anything to do but let you go, if that's the case."

                "Let her go?" Simon said suspiciously.  "You mean, release her?"

                "She hasn't committed a crime," Comworth said.  "At least, I have no evidence of one.  And, contrary to popular belief," he glanced sidelongly at Simon, "I am dedicated to having justice served on my planet."

                Kaylee looked over to Simon, who was as confused and hesitant as she, "Don't misunderstand," the young doctor said cautiously.  "We're both grateful for this . . . gesture.  But, if you were just going to let her go, why arrest her in the first place?"

                "Just because I care about justice, doesn't mean I'm not a politician," Comworth said.  "And I'm not beyond planting a 'trap to catch' you, as you said."

                "What is it that you think you've caught?" Simon asked.

                "The elusive truth about the past few months," Comworth said.  "And with that in mind, I intend to--"

                What he intended to do was never revealed, for at that moment the door to the office opened and River bounded in, laughing joyfully.

                "I told them, I told them," she said, running directly towards Kaylee and throwing herself at the girl, "Rainbows only come out on gray days.   The sky smiles when it cries."

                "River," Kaylee choked out, a little surprised, as she tried to stand and untangle herself from the young girl's affectionate embrace.  Out of respect, Simon and Comworth stood as well.  "It's good ta see ya."

                "River," Simon said, "What are you doing here?  You were supposed to be with the doctor."

                "She was with the doctor," Gabriel Tam's voice said from the doorway in a tone so sobering and superior that Simon and Kaylee blanched and turned towards him attentively.  River, oblivious to the tone, turned and smiled at her father, slipping one hand in Kaylee's. 

                "Until she threw a fit," Gabriel continued.  "Insisted on finding Maylee, was it."

                "Ah," the mechanic stuttered.  "Kaylee, sir."

                "Reginald, who is this?" Gabriel asked, motioning vaguely in Kaylee's direction.

                "She's my friend, Daddy," River answered quickly, usurping the governor.  "Simon loves her."

                For about twenty seconds Simon was convinced that the only sound in the room was that of his rapidly beating, panic stricken, heart.  

                Simon tried to say his sister's name, scold her, but it got stuck in his throat.  He felt like he should apologize to Kaylee, but he couldn't bear to do it in front of so many people.  He felt like he should explain how simply wonderful she was to his father and godfather, and then clarify that he might love her in the sense that he admired her, and adored her, and cherished every minute he could spend with her, but he really wasn't 'in love' with her, per say.  But before he could say or do or explain anything, his father stepped forward.

                "Now, what was your name?"

                "Ah, Kaylee."

                "Kaylee?  You don't have a last name?"

                "Frye," Simon supplied.  If he couldn't spare the poor girl an interrogation, the least he could do was share the burden.  "Kaylee Frye."

                "Actually," Kaylee said, glancing at Simon.  "My full name's Kaywinnith Lee.  Do that make a difference?"

                "A great difference," Gabriel said, laughing snidely.  "I assure you.  And where did you two meet?"

                "Don't make fun of her," Simon snapped.  "You don't even know her."

                "Is River telling the truth?" Gabriel demanded.  "Do you love this girl?"

                "It's none of your business how I feel about anyone," Simon asserted.

                "I'm your father.  If I'm going to have some prairie harpy for a daughter-in-law –"

                "Gabriel, hold your tongue," Comworth snapped.  "Simon is right, you don't know this girl.  You have no call to speak of her in such a derogatory manner, as she stands here to hear you, nonetheless.  You should be ashamed of yourself!"

                "I'm not going to play the gentleman for some _diow__ kai dz who doesn't even have the decency to put on airs when she's in the presence of the Governor."_

                "Perhaps you should _be_ a gentleman, Gabriel, not play one," Comworth said, his voice low and rumbling.  

                "Don't leave," River said, ignoring the tension between the two older men and turning to Kaylee.  The younger girl's large brown eyes looked sad, like she was about to cry.  "I don't want a broken family.  If you leave you'll come back, and if you come back we'll leave and not come back.  Everything will break and crack and they'll be raining and no rainbows."

                 Kaylee turned to Simon.  She looked like she wished she were invisible, or far far away, or anywhere but sanding in a room listening to older, richer, more important people bicker over her.  Simon wished there were something he could do to comfort her, but he hadn't a clue what that something would be.

                "I'm sorry," he told the girl softly.

                She looked at him, saintly forgiveness in her eyes, and smiled.  At that moment, River's assertions were absolutely true; he loved her with all his heart.

                "Simon, River," Comworth said, drawing the youngest Tam's attention away from Kaylee.  "Perhaps you should return to Dr. Westland."

                "I suppose so," Simon said, turning back to get one last idyllic view of Kaylee in her pretty denim jumper and bright yellow raincoat.  He had a strong feeling that this would not be the last time he'd see the sweet mechanic, which was a sad realization in its own right, but if it was, he wanted to soak up ever detail of her appearance.  He dreaded forgetting.  

                "I don't know if I want to say goodbye," the girl said, turning to her brother.  "I can't choose."

                "This is going to be one of those things, River, where I don't think we have a choice."

                "That's existentially inaccurate," River said sullenly.

                "Come on," He said, taking his sister by the shoulders and leading her towards their father.  River didn't let go of Kaylee's hand until the very end, when holding on would have meant breaking her arm.  

                Gabriel sighed a sigh of relief and, in a way, finality, "It was very interesting meeting you, Miss Frye."

                "Yeah," Kaylee said, nodding coolly.  "Glad I got ta meet you too."

                "It's not fair," River cried as her father and brother pulled her out of the room.  She was looking over her shoulder at Kaylee, standing timidly alone.  "Why can't we be fixed, be whole?"

                Simon didn't look behind him, he didn't turn and say goodbye, just in case it really was goodbye and this truly was the last time he'd see the most amazing and delightful girl he'd ever known.  There was too much he wanted to say, best not to say anything at all.  
                "I don't know, River," he told his sister softly, choking back a sob as the heavy door to the governor's office closed behind them.  "But you're right, it's not fair."

*   *   *

The crew of _Serenity was sitting in a small, smoky bar.  There were no windows in the bar, which was just as well, because the weather outside was nothing to look at.  Gray rain, made all grayer by the soot and grime that coated the neighborhood in which Mal had chosen to lodge: rain that Mal had felt sure was a bad omen back in Sweet Well.  His feeling had proven true, a fact which gave him no comfort._

                "_Gai__ sz!," Mal spat. "And you're sure?"_

                "I saw it with my own eyes," Book said.

                "So now what?" Jayne asked.  "We gonna break them all out?"

                "Don't see that we have much choice," Zoë sighed.

                "Breakin' Simon and River out of their comfortable guests rooms was gonna be hard enough," Mal sighed.  "I don't much like the idea of breaking someone out of a barracks guarded by half a dozen armed men."

                "What about Inara?" Wash asked.  "Could she maybe . . ."

                "What?" Mal snapped.  "Lure them all away with a seductive dance?  Offer them all drugged wine while batting her pretty brown eyes?  No.  Inara's no good.  Anything she did would betray her position, we'd end up just having to snatch her out, too."

                "So, then?" Book asked.  "What do you plan to do?"

                "Don't know," Mal admitted.  "Give me the night."

"Think you'll come up with a plan?" Jayne asked.

"I think I'll have to," was Mal's glum answer.

*   *   *

                Inside the governor's office, Kaylee took a shaky breath and tried not to cry.  She was still aware of the governor's presence, in fact, she was probably more aware of it than she had been when Simon was in the room with her.  It was silly and prideful, but she didn't want to cry in front of him, and yet, there seemed to be very little she could do to stop it.

                "Come now, Miss Frye," Comworth said very kindly as he leaned over his desk towards her.  "Everything will be all right."

                She looked at him and tried to smile, "That's awful kind of you to say."

                "You really do love them, don't you?" Comworth asked kindly.  "Both of them?"

                Kaylee nodded.  "They're my friends."

                "You and Simon?" the governor prompted.  "Are you any more than just friends?"

                Kaylee blushed and looked down at her feet.  "That ain't a fair question," she muttered.

                "Why not?"

                "Cause it's not a question I can answer," she said.

                "River said Simon loved you."

                "River says a lot of things," Kaylee observed.  "Don't make a one of them true."

                "You don't think he does."

                "I think," she said very carefully, "that he thinks he can only love River."

                "Where does that leave you?"

                She smiled up at him with wisely sparkling brown eyes, "Alone, with his godfather, in a quite room on a rainy day."

                Comworth laughed.  "I'll escort you to the villa gate. Would you like someone to make sure you get back to your noble captain all right?"

                "I can make my own way, thanks," Kaylee said, feeling more comfortable with the old man, the Governor of her home planet, by the second.  

                He escorted her out of the office and took her down halls that she hadn't seen during the tour, leading around to a back gate that let out in a secluded alley.  No one, she was assured, would see her leave.  The whole time he talked softly and kindly to her about Simon, about what he was like as a child; how he was always eager to be with the adults, but quickly got bored of their conversation, so would sit and read quietly to himself while the other children played.  She heard about how gullible he was, he'd believe every word that came out of River's mouth, and there were many instances when she took advantage of that fact.  When they reached the gate, Comworth paused.  

                "You're from here, aren't you, from Newhope."

                "Yep," Kaylee said.  "Born and raised.  How'd ya know?"

                "Accent," he said.  "Dead give away.  It sounds more familiar to me now than the accent from my home back in the Core."

                "Well, I'd just like to say, that me and mine always thought you did a real nice job governoring."

                "Thank you Miss Frye," Comworth laughed.  "I don't suppose you'd take a message back to yours."

                "'Course," the girl said seriously, noting a serious tone in his voice.

                "Tell your captain that I understand."

                "You understand?"

                "I've seen River. I've talked to Simon."  The seriousness in his voice had shifted slightly into sorrowful gravity.  "I understand what's been happening these last few months.  And, though it breaks my heart, I condone it."

                "Are, are you sayin' you'd let them go?" Kaylee asked.

                Comworth nodded.

                "What 'bout that thing where you could get Simon a job at a real hospital, and River . . ."

                "That's not going to happen," Comworth said curtly.  "Not ever."

                "But you said . . .?"

                "I wanted to know how you felt about them, really." The Governor explained, looking off into the darkness of a rainy twilight.  "On your ship, Simon is able to help people and he has people that care about him.  River, apparently, has people that care about her; enough even to steal medicines for the child.  I assume that was a fairly risky undertaking."

                "More for River and Simon then for us," Kaylee said honestly.  "They got snatched, them and  . . . and one other."

                "And the Captain saved them?"

                "Yep."

                "Heroically."

                "I don't know 'bout that.  Simon sure was impressed."

                "Simon," the governor muttered.  "He is a great one for showing gratitude."

                "Your gonna miss him, ain't cha?" Kaylee asked sadly.  "More than I would of."

                "I will miss him."

                "I'm sorry," Kaylee said earnestly.

                "Miss Frye, I've imposed on you greatly today, would you allow me to do so once more?"

                "Wha'da'ya need?" Kaylee said, fully intending to give the gregarious man anything he asked for.

                "Watch after Simon and River for me."

                She laughed, "Aw, I'd do that anyways."

                "No, you don't understand," he said.  "For me.  As a natural citizen of Newhope, you have every right and reason to communicate with your governor on matters that concern you and him."

                "You want me to spy on Simon?" Kaylee asked.

                "No, dear, I want you to tell me how he's doing.  Assure me that he's happy and cared for, River too."

                "I can do that," Kaylee said.  "I'll be real subtle, too.  'Case they read your mail."

                Comworth smiled and, somewhat spontaneously, leaned forward to kiss the pretty young mechanic on the forehead.  "You are kind and genuine and good.  If this is the life Simon has to lead, I'm glad he can lead it with you."

                "Well," Kaylee said uncertainly.  "What with River and all . . .we're not, I mean . . . we haven't . . ."

                "Don't crush an old man's hope for his godson," Comworth teased.  "I can dream my boy will learn to appreciate one of Newhope's natural beauties."

                Kaylee blushed so brightly her cheeks hurt.

                "You should probably get back to your captain."

                "Yeah," Kalyee said, nodding sadly.

                "It was very nice to meet you Miss Kaywinith Lee Frye," The governor said, extending his hand.  She took it, expecting to shake, but instead he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it elegantly.  

                "Nice ta meet you too, sir," the girl managed to say without breaking into bashful giggles.

                "I look forward to our correspondence."

                "'Course," She said, taking back her hand as she backed, awkwardly out the gate and into the secluded ally.  "And thanks."

                "Now, don't forget my message."

                "You understand," Kaylee repeated, as she turned and started running as fast as she could to the meeting place, hoping against hope that they hadn't yet mounted a rescue.  "He understands," she told herself again and, for some odd reason, she had to try very hard not to cry.

To be continued . . .


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18: In which Mal is worried, overjoyed and worried while Simon is just worried

Mal sat at a desk in his small, dirty, little room in their small, dirty, little hotel and looked over all of Book's notes on the Governor's villa's layouts, guard placement, windows, roof accesses and exits. He couldn't help but feel discouraged. His attempts at making a plan to save Kaylee were not going overly well. They were, more or less, 'Have Jayne do it' which was considerably better than his 'Have Zoë do it' plan. He had intended to use Zoë as a distraction as he and Jayne grabbed the Tam's. He didn't trust Jayne alone with the kids, which is why 'Do it yourself' was not a viable option for the save-Kaylee plan. And he didn't like the idea of Zoë getting into any action, but if he were there to protect her, he'd be able to handle it a little bit better, maybe. Perhaps she could do Wash's job and Wash could help Mal, or Wash could help Jayne, as snagging Kaylee was likely to be the more difficult task. Or maybe Wash could get the Tam's by himself. 

Book was an untapped resource, as far as that went, but Mal didn't like the idea of using the preacher to take the tour twice. The guards were obviously on their toes. If they recognized Kaylee, they'd probably recognize Book, too and they couldn't afford even the slightest bit of attention drawn to them. 

There was a gentle rapping on the door.

"What is it?"

"Got a message for ya Cap," a muffled voice that sounded very much like Kaylee's said. "Can I come in?"

"_Gan xie feng hou nai zi zhi zao hua_," Mal said, jumping up from his seat so quickly that he tripped over his chair and, as a result of the aforementioned smallness of the room, fell hard against the door.

"Cap?" the muffled voice said uncertainly. "You ok?"

"Kaylee," Mal said, finding his feet and unlocking the door with some difficulty. The locks were old and rusted. "Tell me it's you, girl."

"It's me sure enough," Kaylee laughed as the door flew open and a disheveled yet overjoyed Captain Reynolds. "Ya look happy ta see me."

"Am I ever," Mal said, grabbing his little mechanic and wrapping her in a ferocious bear hug.

Kaylee giggled in her adorable way and, after a second, said, "Cap'n, I need to breathe." 

Mal released her from his embrace but kept his hands firmly on her shoulder, as if he were afraid she'd be spirited back to the governor's villa if he let go. "How'd you get away from the Governor's guards?"

"Oh, Cap'n ya ain't even gonna believe," The girl said, stepping into the room as Mal let his arm's fall off her shoulders. She couldn't step far, though, before running into his bed. She did, flopping down on it with a secure comfortable, familiarity. 

Mal closed the door and leaned against it. His relief at finding Kaylee was quickly overshadowed by his eagerness to find out what had happened. "Why don't you go on and tell me?"

"I don't even know how ta start," Kaylee said, staring up at the ceiling. 

"Beginning tends to be a good place," Mal prompted. "Like, say, when you were arrested?"

"Well," the young girl said, throwing herself whole-heatedly into the telling of the story. "The tour was done, and I was just 'bout to walk inta the gift shop after Shepherd Book when this guard comes up ta me and says 'Miss, would you come with us please.' And, let me tell you, I think at that very second my blood ran as cold as ever it did. I was sure they knew exactly what I'd been doin', even though there was no difference between me and all them other tourists, still . . . 

"And they took me to the private wing of the villa, ya know, I think it was where the doctor's wing was, if I'm remeberin' the map right."

"Can you show me where that place was?" Mal asked, leaning over to his desk and handing the girl the tour book filled with the shepherd's notes.

"Ah yeah," she said, looking at the map for a second before pointing out a room and continuing seamlessly with her story. "They send a guard in and I thought I was gonna faint 'cause out came the governor! Can you believe it, Cap'n?"

"The governor hisself?" Mal asked, believing it regardless of his surprise.

"Yun-huh," Kaylee nodded, wide eyed and slack jawed, as if she barely believed it still. "And he looks at me and says, 'Do you know Simon Tam?' and my heart jumped to my throat and I couldn't of spoken a word ta lie even if I'd of had the presence of mind to think of it. I just nodded. And he turned to his guards and told them ta take me to his office and see that I was comfortable.

"Not five minutes went by and the door opened and who ya suppose was on the other side?"

"The governor?"

"Simon," Kaylee said flatly.

"You saw Simon?"

"Yeah," the girl nodded. "He looked so sad, Cap. I mean, more than usual. Remember how he was when he first came on, all starchy and stiff and hopin' that would make it so we didn't notice. And then when he'd smile it'd be a real effort, you know, like he was doing it more for you than for him, but not patronizing, like I'm making it sound, just, even sadder."

"I know the look," Mal admitted. He'd hated that look; it was the main reason that for boy's first few months on Serenity, Mal had strongly disliked Simon. Mal didn't like people who couldn't find something to laugh about, even in the worst situations; to him they seemed ungrateful or, possibly, unable to be joyful. But as the days wore on and constant, unavoidable contact made him more familiar with the boy and with his moods, Mal realized that it wasn't a lack of gratitude or even ability to be joyful, it was just that he was grieving. It all came down to an off-hand conversation he'd had with Zoë one day on their latest trip from Persephone to Jiangyin as they were shoveling manner into the air lock to be sucked out into space. Simon had offered to help, Mal had refused.

"You should have let him, sir," Zoë had said.

"Why?" Mal'd asked. "You and I can do this job just fine."

"He could have done this job with us just fine," Zoë'd pointed out. "And maybe speed us up a bit."

"Are you trying to tell me that haulin' manure is not your definition of a good time?" Mal'd asked.

"That's not my point sir, no," Zoë'd said. "But since you bring it up—"

This was not a conversation he'd wanted to have for fear that she might abandon her shovel. "You were saying about Simon."

"Just that you should have let him help," Zoe'd said. "I think it'd do you both good."

"Do us both good?" Mal'd scoffed. "How's that?"

"I don't know," She'd shrugged. "Busy hand happy heart. He'd probably be a lot more cheerful if he could do somethin' and feel like a part of the crew. Then you'd probably like him a lot better if he were more cheerful, and then if he though you liked him, he'd probably be a little more open and a little more likable."

"You know, you've thought way to much on this."

"Actually, sir, Kaylee has. She asked me to mention it to you."

"Well, ya have," Mal'd said, curtly, as if the observation had gone in one ear and out the other. He'd hoped that would the end of it.

"But I think she's probably right, sir," Zoë'd ventured. 

"Do you?"

"He reminds me a lot of you, sir." She'd said with a very well played casualness, as if the comment was off-hand and in no way inflammatory. "Just after the war." 

"What!" Mal'd practically yelled, stopping his shoveling all together and looking at her utter disbelief. "Zoë, I think you've been sniffing the cow pies a little too close."

"I ain't the only one to see it," Zoë'd said, still working diligently, as if their conversation hadn't thrown Mal into some sort of alternate universe where up was down and wrong was right. "Wash and Inara think so too. 'Course," She'd said, pausing to look at him. "They don't know what I know."

"And what," Mal'd asked, his voice clipped and furious. "Do you think you know?"

"That the forlorn look in that boy's eyes, the I-don't-have-a-place-in-this-'verse-everything-I-knew-is-gone-life-stoped-making-sense look."

"Yeah."

"That look was in your eyes," Zoë'd said with so much frankness Mal hadn't dreamed of nay-saying her. "From the moment you'd realized we lost on Serenity Valley to the moment you saw this ship."

And that was all she'd said. And it was all she'd had to say. 

They'd finished the chore in silence as Mal'd struggled to convince himself that he and Simon were not similar in the least. That the boy's reclusive, mopey ways were nothing like his behavior after the war. Sure, Mal had sulked a little as he reevaluated and rebuilt his life, but the trauma of war was so much more, well, traumatic than the young doctors troubles. But after a good deal of resentful soul searching, and a little kindness on Mal's part, which lead to a little openness on Simon's part, Mal realized that it wasn't the trauma that they shared, it was the loss. 

They both had lost everything they were sure they'd never lose, things they thought were so integrated into them that they didn't consider it possible to lose. Simon had lost his social position, his money and his job; losses he could probably have handled. But for all intents and purposes, he'd lost his sister, too. The River he had now was not the same girl, and she could never be the same girl. He'd given everything up, and gotten more suffering in return. Mal had lost the war, lost his home, lost his ability to be an upright member of society; again all things he could have handled. But he'd also lost his faith in the power or goodness, and in the goodness of God. Just like Simon, he'd given everything up for his cause and had gotten only suffering in return.

Mal hated to think that the I-don't-have-a-place-in-this-world-everything-I-knew-is-gone-life-stoped-making-sense look might come back to the young man's eyes, probably more than Kaylee did, because he knew what was going on in a person's heart when they had that look, and Mal had grown to care for the young doctor enough to wish him spared that kind of pain. 

"Anyways," the girl said, oblivious to Mal's introspection. "The three of us sat and talked for what felt like forever. You'd of been so proud of him, Cap'n. He hadn't let a word out about _Serenity_, not even about where he'd been, not even to defend himself."

Mal was proud of Simon, although no one would know it by the look on his face. "What you three talk about?"

"Well, I explained the ship, kinda," Kaylee said, for the first time her tale was becoming a little deflated, as if she were afraid that she'd done something wrong. "You know, that we like him and that we only want what's best for both him and River."

"Did you, now?" Mal asked.

"I didn't give no details," the girl said quickly. "No names."

"Except yours?"

"Cap'n," Kaylee said very seriously, which was appropriate, because Mal had his mind on very serious matters. "The Gov'ner's a real _Ci xiang_. He's not gonna hunt us down. Fact, he told me ta tell you that he understands."

"He understands?" Mal said. "I don't suppose he told you just what he understands."

"Well," Kaylee admitted. "No. But he's gotta mean why Simon and River have been through, ya know, why they've been hiddin' and why we've gotta get them back."

"Tell me you didn't tell him our plan, Little Kaylee," his voice was a warning.

"'Course I didn't," Kaylee said. "I ain't stupid. But, Cap, neither is he. He knows you've taken risks on Simon and River's account before, don't take much figuring to figure you'd do it again."

"You told him?" Mal asked, a little horrified.

"Not much!" Kaylee insisted. "Only so much as to convince him that we weren't bad. He loves them, Cap. You'd know it if you saw him. And he knows we love them too and what were doin' is what's best for them. That's the thing he understands."

"That could very well be," Mal said grudgingly. "But after your little pow-wow, Kaylee, I'm fairly sure he understands that if he wants to keep the kids he loves so much, he's gonna have to keep them under double guard."

Kaylee continued to protest and to argue her point, but Mal didn't give credence to a word of it. He couldn't. He knew enough about people to know it is a universal fault of human kind that each individual believes other individuals are just like them. Kaylee was sweet and innocent and pure and good; and that was how she tended to see others, at least until they'd proven themselves not to be so.

He had to be ready for the worst; that their plan had been somehow discovered and that the children would be ten times more difficult to capture and Kaylee had been set free to make him aware of that, to scare him away. And if, by some miracle of luck, Kaylee was right about the old man, well, then, all for the better. But, the situation being what it was, Mal couldn't trust on a miracle of luck.

* * *

"I want to know," Governor Comworth said very seriously. "What you intend to do."

He was dining in a smaller, more intimate dining room, with Gabriel and Regan. Genie was eating a much more elaborate supper with Inara so they could focus on formal table manners. River was sick and tired after a day of testing to go to dinner, or even eat, and had been sent to bed early. Simon's company had been unwanted, so he was in his guarded room with no windows and no crawl spaces and yet another sandwich.

"What do you mean?" Gabriel scoffed. "What is there to do? We'll have to admit Simon and send River back to her school."

"You must be out of you're mind," Comworth gasped. "That is ludicrous."

"Now Gabriel," Regan soothed. "Let's not be hasty."

"I'm not being hasty," Gabriel said defensively. "I have given much thought to this and I'm convinced this is what's best for the children."

"But," Regan said weakly. "River's brain."

"When we toured the school they told us that some of their teaching methods were going to be state of the art in regards to brain functioning," he reminded his wife.  
"But slicing up her brain," Regan said, horrified. "How could we send her back to that?"

"How could we not?" Gabriel demanded, a little angrily. "Simon ripped her from that school when whatever they were doing to her was half done. He's been playing with her brain, with her body, with no real aim. What ever they were doing at that school, they were doing with a purpose. Whatever procedures they performed were undoubtedly performed by leading specialists in the field, not a green ER doctor."

"Simon is brilliant," Regan said defensibly.

"I'm not saying he isn't," Gabriel said, his voice a little calmer and gentler as he talked to his wife. "But he is not a specialist with twenty years experience in brain surgery and chemistry. River cannot get better under his care. Simon simply does not have the experience or understanding to help her. But if we take her back to the school, let them finish what they started, I'm sure the River we get back will be better."

"Dr. Westland gave her medicine," Regan continued to argue. "She's already improved. This afternoon she was almost like the child I remember."

"Do you really what her to depend on medication all her life?" Gabriel asked, clearly disgusted with the idea. "Letting them finish their work is the only way she'll ever have anything like a normal life."

"Even if what you say is true," Comworth said, trying not to sound as angry as he was. "Why send Simon to a mental institution. Obviously the boy is only doing what he thinks is best. You may consider him misguided, but you can't believe him insane."

"I don't," Gabriel clipped. "Clearly River didn't understand what was happening to her any more than Simon currently does. She felt afraid and sent letters. Regan and I were wrong about that. We probably should have listened to his concerns more intently, instead of dismissing them. 

"But the fact remains that he kidnapped her. That is a crime, regardless of circumstances. I don't want to see my son in Jail."

"You'd rather see him doped up?" Comworth said. "Treated like a child, a fool?"

"He's fortified his life," Gabriel said. "I hate that fact, but it is a fact. If we can convince a judge to rule him insane he could go for treatment, get a lighter sentence, he would have a better chance of rebuilding some of the things he's so thoroughly destroyed. Mental and emotional insatiability in times of great stress is much easier for society to accept than wanton criminal behavior."

"Surely Simon could not be called wantonly criminal," Regan said. 

"Why not?" Gabriel demanded. "He committed a crime. He was of sound mind, he knew his actions were wrong, that didn't concern him. And we ought to take into account the company he has kept over the last few months. If that prairie harpy was any indication --"

"Now, I liked her," Comworth said. "She was sweet."

"She was _di ji_," Gabriel spat. "Simon could do better."

"I'm by no means convinced of that," Comworth said. "Neither, I suspect, is River."

"This is the Kaylee girl, isn't it?" Regan asked, interjecting herself into the conversation. "All afternoon River wouldn't stop talking about her. Simon didn't say a word."

"The boy has resigned himself to his fate," Comworth said with a curious tone in his voice. "Whatever path his is forced to go down he will trod it, regardless of how much pain it puts him through. I must say I respect how very resolutely he's accepted this whole, damnable, situation."

"Respect it?" Gabriel scoffed. "He's sulked like a child."

"He's forfeited his life, you said so yourself. And the new life that he was just beginning to forge, the life that Kaylee Frye was part of, has been snatched away. He has nothing now, not even River, because he knows we'll be sure to snatch her away as well. I, for one, can't fault him for feeling morose. I'm actually relived he's secure enough to let his feeling show."

"That was a very fine speech, Reginald," Gabriel said. "But nothing anyone could say will convince me that Simon is some sort of tragic hero. I wish to God he were, you know that, he is my son, and I do love him. But I'll never be able to accept his actions."

"So, I suppose your relationship with your son is over then?" Comworth said coldly. 

"He's the one that ended it, not I," Gabriel said. "If is further is full of troubles and he has no one to turn to, that is on one's fault but his."

* * *

Simon stared at his half-eaten sandwich in disgust. He couldn't imagine any meal looking less appealing, and after his stint on _Serenity_, his imagination in regards to unappealing meals had been greatly expanded. It wasn't that the sandwich wasn't good. There was real meat, real bread, real mustard and sprouts. But as Simon's stomach churned and the boy considered forcing himself to get the last half down, he realized it wasn't the food itself that made him sick, it was what the food stood for. He'd been given sandwiches because he was too crazy to be trusted with butter knives and salad forks. All his parents distrust in him, all their disappointment, all their unwillingness to listen to reason seemed to be personified in that half a sandwich.

As he considered eating at least the pickle, whose symbolism was somewhat less clear, there was a knock on his door. Simon looked up, shocked that anyone would consider his privacy worth observing. "What is it?" he called.

"I just want to talk to you for a moment," the governor's kind voice said from the other side of the door. "Is that all right?"

"Do I have a choice?" Simon asked.

"Of course you do," the governor said. "If you don't want company, I'll leave."

"No," Simon said quickly, trying not to sound as surprised as he was. "Please, come in."

The door opened and Governor Comworth entered. The old man looked tired and though the smile he offered Simon was genuinely warm, it did seem a little forced. "I thought you might like some coffee," Comworth said, stretching out a mug towards his hard-eyed godson. "Decaff, black."

"Thank you," Simon said, looking at the mug coldly. "But I'm not really thirsty."

"Nor hungry," Comworth sighed, setting the mug down on the table near Simon before walking over to the bed and sitting down on it. "So it would seem."

Simon glanced at his half eaten sandwich, which looked more unappealing by the minute and then turned back to his godfather, "I just don't have the stomach for it." He said simply.

There was a moment of silence. Finally, Comworth spoke. "I liked her."

"Kaylee?" Simon asked. For a split second a warm expression tempered his face, but just as quickly it was replaced by foreboding. "You didn't follow her, did you, or –"

"I didn't do anything," the governor assured the younger man. "I just let her go."

"I don't understand," Simon said. 

"You were right about River," Comworth said simply. "She was suffering and you did give up all you had to end it. You did save her."

Simon couldn't believe his ears, he just stared at the governor, dumbfounded.

"And you were right about the criminals you fell in with. Kaylee and, ah, Mal?"

Simon nodded dumbly, too shocked by his godfather's admission to notice the subtle use of the captain's first name, nor even wonder how the old man came upon it. 

"You told me they took care of you, that you both 'would be dead if not for their aid.' And, as much as it pains me to say this, I find that I have to believe you."

"Pains you?" Simon asked uncertainly. "Why would it?"

"Because," the governor said, taking a deep breath and pushing himself up. "It means I will have to do things I do not want to do. Hurt people I do not want to hurt. Betray things I never thought I would betray."

"What are you talking about?" Simon asked wearily.

"I don't know," the governor sighed. "I should . . . it's been a long day." He clapped his hands on his legs and pushed himself up so that he was standing. "One of the longest of my life."

"You can't just leave," Simon said, standing to face the governor eye-to-eye. The governor's eyes were heartbroken, about to cry. Simon was too concerned about his fate and River's to give a damn. "You've obviously made a decision about what you're going to do with River and me."

Comworth looked at his godson, tried to say something, and then took a deep breath and shook his head. Turning towards the door, he said, "I don't know what will happen. I won't know until it does."

"You'll have to forgive me if I don't find that comforting," Simon said. "You have all the power, why play these games?"

"I'm not playing, Simon," Comworth said, pausing at the door and looking at his godson very seriously. "This is your life, not a game."

"Then stop dropping clues and giving hints," Simon demanded. "If you're going to send us off to the Alliance tell me!"

"I won't give you to them, Simon," Comworth said very seriously. "I couldn't."

"Oh," the boy said, once again shocked. "Then, does . . . does that mean . . . ?"

"I can't think about what that means, just now," the governor said. "As I said, it has been a long long day. I just wanted to come in here, give you coffee and let you know that I really did like your friend. That having been done, good night."

"Good night," Simon said as the older man closed the door. He stared at it for a moment, wondering what the whole conversation had meant. As he stood there, the doctor felt himself swaying on his feet. He was exhausted, emotionally if not physically, and probably hungry he reasoned with some amusement. But the sandwich still looked horrid and the bed, on the other hand, was inviting. Simon sank into it and before he could be bothered to take off his shoes or get under the covers he was asleep. 

* * *

River woke up screaming. She wrestled with her thick blankets, trying desperately to detangle herself. After great effort she managed to fall off her bed and onto the floor. 

"Simon," she sobbed. She was cold and the darkness seemed to be coming closer, rushing in on her. It was going to swallow her, she was sure of it. The darkness, which looked like some sort of mean dog or a Chinese dragon, smiling at her horribly, would rip her apart and eat her up.

"Simon!" she called again, louder. He had the power to turn on the lights and scare the beastly darkness away. He had the power to transform the blankets that had been smothering her, strangling her, into warm soft wrappings that comforted her. He had the power to make the nightmares go away. But he wasn't coming. The darkness got closer. She could feel its horrid ice-cold breath and her body ached where it would bite into her. Terror closed her throat so she couldn't scream; all she could do was sob softly. She was abandoned to the darkness, utterly alone. 

Outside the room a guard patrolling the hall had heard her second cry to her brother, and then the beginning of her sobs. He called it in over his transmitter, "Base, this is Alpha three twenty, there's an odd noise coming out of the blue room."

"Blue room," the base crackled back. "That's where that girl is, the one Genie's age."

"Oh, yeah, what's her name, Rainbow?"

"Something like that."

"Should I check it out?"

"Can you describe the noises?"

"Well, it sounded like a scream and then some crying. It's quieted down now."

"Nah, kid probably just had a nightmare. Nothing to worry about."

"Ten four, talk to ya later."

To Be Continued . . .


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19: In which Zoë and Wash do not make friends as Mal runs into an old one 

**Wednesday **

                Another gray day on Newhope and in Du Chang in particular, the grayish light shone through the large windows in one of the villa's seemingly countless comfortable sitting rooms.  There was a fire in the hearth surrounded by two identical plush couches facing one another and several chairs with end tables designed to hold a cup of tea and a half read book.  The room seemed to exude comfort.  And even as Simon was lead into it by armed guards and saw his clearly uncomfortable parents sitting stiffly on a dark red velvet couch, he couldn't help but feel slightly more relaxed for being in such a comforting environment.  River must have felt the same, he reasoned, she was sound asleep, looking peaceful and perfect, curled up in an overstuffed leather armchair.

                "What's this?" Simon asked cautiously.  "Family story time?"

                "Don't be sarcastic," Gabriel snapped.  "We have something very important to discuss with you."

                "By discuss I suppose you mean that you'll tell me what you think and expect me to sit quietly and nod my head in shame," Simon said, easing himself carefully down on the other couch, facing his parents.

                "This is very serious Simon," Regan said.  "We are very serious."

                "I never thought any of this was a joke," The boy assured them honestly.

                "We've talked it over," his mother continued, "Your father, your godfather and I and . . . we don't want you to get hurt dear."

                "Good," Simon said, looking at his mother suspiciously, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  "I don't want to get hurt."

                "What your mother is trying to say, son," Gabriel said, in a kinder voice than he'd used with Simon for years, since before River's letters.  "Is that we think you need to turn yourself in."

                "What?" Simon said, exasperated.  "Are you totally insane?"

                "This is something we want you to do of your own volition," Regan said.  "We know it would be hard for you but --"

                "You're both out of your minds," Simon said, staring at his parents with horror.  "Don't you understand what will happen if they get us?"

                "They?"

                "The Alliance," Simon said.  "They'll send her back to be tortured and . . ." The memory of the guards screams on Ariel started to resonate in his ears again.  "And I don't think I'd fare much better."

                "Simon, sweetheart," his mother said in an unquestionably loving motherly tone, a tone that he'd never been able to say no to growing up, a tone that melted his heart.  "I know that this is hard for you but, please, think clearly about what's really best for the whole family."

                "Please, son," his father added.  "It would be so much better for everyone if you would just turn yourself in.  Can't you find it within yourself to do the right thing?"

                Simon starred at his parents, dumbfounded, heartbroken, and absolutely speechless.

*   *   *

                "Wish I had mittens," Kaylee said, blowing into her bare cupped hands before shoving them deep into the pockets of her raincoat.

                "It's not so cold out," Book said.  The pair was strolling along the shop fronts of Du Chang's tourist district, not far from the Governor's villa.  They had an hour to burn until they meet Zoë and hopped on the train back to Sweet Well.  

                "Yeah," the girl said.  "I guess I'm just jittery.  Every little thing seems big."

                "I see," Book said wisely.  "You're far more content worrying about your cold hands, which you know will be fine, then venturing to worry over what the Captain is doing?"

                "Just thinking of it makes me sick to my stomach," Kaylee admitted.  "My tummy was so tied up in knots this morning that I couldn't even eat breakfast."

                "Is that a subtle hint that you would like to stop in one of these quaint little coffee shops?"

                "Well, no," Kaylee said, looking in at the warm surroundings and seeing people holding steaming mugs as they chatted cheerfully without a care in the world.  "But, ya know, it'd be kinda nice.  Still, we gots sandwiches if we're hungry and . . ."

                "And a little treat that provided a pleasant distraction would do neither of us harm," Book asserted, placing his hand on her back and gently guiding her into one of the shops.  Kaylee offered no resistance.

                The place was busy, almost crowded, and delightfully bright and warm after the dim coolness of outside.  

                "I'll get a table," Book said, "Why don't you get the drinks?"

                "What you want?" Kaylee called as the preacher headed into the mass of people, soon to be lost.

                "Green tea, if they have it.  If not, black does just fine."

                "What about a muffin?" Kaylee persisted, halting Book in his tracks.  "Or a roll?"

                "If they have fresh hard rolls," the older man said, and then, thinking twice, amended, "No, just tea."  

                Kaylee dutifully retrieved green tea for the good shepherd, and she ordered him a hard roll, which he'd obviously wanted one but, with saintly self-control, declined.  She got a croissant for herself, so light and fluffy that she couldn't help but giggle in anticipation, and a cup of warm milk with honey, to settle her stomach.  Best of all, there were small packets of strawberry preserves and lumps of butter.  It was the brightest and most cheerful breakfast Kaylee could imagine.  It was almost impossible to believe that something bad could happen after a breakfast like this.

                When Kaylee reached the table, her beaming smile slipped a little.  Book had found them a small nook by a window.  He was staring out into the grayness of the morning looking introspective and distant.  Kaylee hated to interrupt him.  But after a second's hesitation she realized that she could not stand there holding a heavy tray forever.  Eventually, she was going to have to sit down, better sooner than later.  And if she had to disturb him, she might as well do it properly.

                "Hey, there, Shepherd," She said, drawing his attention away from the window and his thoughts.  "Ready for breakfast?  They had green tea."

                "And hard roll's apparently," Book said, standing politely as she set the tray on the table.  He only sat when she did.

                "Yeah, thought you might like one.  Ain't every day we get real bread and butter."

                "True enough, I suppose," Book chuckled.  "Thank you."

                "Well, your welcome," she said simply before taking the first sip of her sweet, warm, wholesome milk.

                They ate in silence for a minute.  After a bit, Kaylee said, "Were you prayin'?"

                "What?" 

                "When I came up you were lookin' out the window all thoughtful and such . . ."

                "Yes," Book admitted.  "I was."

                "What for?"

                The old man sighed. "I'm not sure."

                "Don't recall?"

                "No," Book said tentatively.  "It's just . . . I prayed for protection, for the Captain and for all of us.  I just . . . I don't know what form that protection will take."

                "How do you mean?" 

                "In my mind, it's a struggle," the shepherd confessed.  "I want the captain to be successful in his mission, and indeed, I've even helped him to that end.  But, what if this is where Simon and River are supposed to be?  How arrogant are we, in our small ship, scraping by from job to job, to assume we can do better for them then their own, considerably well off, family?"

                Kaylee pressed her lips together and nodded sadly.  "Do you think God'd mind too much if I prayed those selfish prayers?" Kaylee asked.  "I mean, you're a shepherd, you gotta think those kinda things.  But I'm just a girl, you think if I prayed that we get Simon and River back safe, he'd listen?  That way you could pray whatever you had to and know that someone, at least, was prayin' for them to come back ta us."

                Book chuckled, "Pray away, sweetheart," Book chuckled.  "I'm sure God is more inclined to answer the heartfelt prayers of a sweet young girl over the overly critical introspections of an old man anyways."

*   *   *

                Zoë stepped closer to the red velvet rope separating her from one of the restricted hallways.  "What's down there?" she said loudly.

                "Ah," The tour guide said, forcing a too-big smile.  "That leads to a series of meeting rooms."

                "Can we see them?" Zoë asked, reaching out to unhook the cord.

                "No!" the guide snapped.  At the beginning of the tour their pretty guide had looked prim and composed; every one of her blond hair's perfectly quaffed into a neat bun, her red uniform pressed and perfect.  But now, after nearly endless harassment form an oh-so-innocent Zoë, the poor woman seemed to be frazzled beyond the point of reorganization.  The smile she'd held on to so tenaciously for the first half-hour of the tour was now thin and forced.  The hands with the beautiful and perfect nails which had been so expressive and so quick to point to areas of interest were now balled into fists, the nails digging into the woman's poor palms.  Mal didn't quite know how, but even the uniform seemed effected by Zoë's continual and inane question-asking and total disregard for all civilized rules of tour-taking.  It looked wrinkled and the colors seemed to have faded, but that was, perhaps, because the guide's shoulders were sagging with exhaustion.

                "Why not?" The firstmate asked innocently.  Mal and Jayne had to try very hard not to burst into laughter.

                "Because it's off limits."

                Zoë's deep brown eyes widened with amazement.  "Is there a meeting going on down there?" she asked, apparently more interested than before.  "Something important, with the governor and great captains of industry and such?"

                "It's off limits," the guide said firmly.  "Now, if you would just follow me . . ."

                "But," Zoë persisted.  "There ain't no reason not to go down there is there?  Unless, unless those aren't really meeting rooms."

                For a very brief second Mal thought he'd have to save his firstmate from strangulation by an enraged tour guide.  But the woman somehow found her composure.  "Miss, please, there is a lot to see yet."

                "Really?" Zoë asked, clearly thrilled with the prospect. "We gonna see some rich stuff?"

                "If you'll please just follow me," the guide said, her voice trembling.  She was smiling at Zoë, and at the group in general, yet it was clear that her teeth were clenched.

                Zoë did as she was told, like an over-eager child.  Mal and Jayne followed, lagging to the back of the group.  No one noticed them, which was a testament to how good Zoë could be at attracting attention to herself, for Jayne was fairly noticeable in any crowd.  

                "I'm kinda worried about leaving Zoë to the mercies of this tour guide," Mal told his mercenary softly.  "Seems like she's at the edge, any minute she could snap."

                "Hell yeah," Jayne grunted.  "Zoë and that tour guide, that's a fight I'd pay to see." 

                Mal glared up at the other man, but didn't comment.  "Come on," he said softly, unhooking the velvet rope and sliding into the hallway.  "We ain't no tourists.  We didn't come here for fun. We got a job to do."

                "Right," Jayne said a little bitterly, following his captain as they started to sneak down the hall towards the guest suites where, according to Inara, Simon and River were being kept.  "We gotta go rescue the doctor, a task what gets less fun every time I do it."

                "Really?" Mal asked.  "For some reason, to me, each time it seems more thrilling."

                "Don't it bother you that the kid keeps gettin' nabbed?" Jayne snorted.  "He's more trouble than he's worth."

                "There are lots of reasons for you to take that comment back, Jayne," Mal said, his voice still light and the majority of his focus still on slinking down the empty hallway unnoticed. "In fact, I can't think of a single reason for you to be talking at all at this juncture."

                "I think you like him better 'n me," Jayne said gruffly.

                Mal stopped and, for a second, was totally dumbfounded.  He turned to Jayne and looked the brute right in the eyes.  "You really just say what I just heard?"

                Jayne hesitated.  After a second he cleared his throat and said, in a very gruff voice, "No."

                "I didn't think so," Mal said with a cool nod, before he turned and continued to creep down the hallway.

*   *   *

"Hey!" Wash said amicably to the guard standing outside the service entrance to the governor's villa.

                "State your business," the very stiff guard said. 

                "Ah," Wash fumbled, padding the pockets of his raincoat with his right hand as his left was occupied with carrying a tool chest. "Got a work order here for a shuttle."

                "We don't send out work orders," the guard said, a note of condensation in his voice. "We have internal maintenance."

                "Really?" Wash asked his eyebrows shooting up in feigned amazement. "'Cause, you know, that's what I thought, but the guy, my boss, you know, he was like, 'No, Gov.'s Villa' and so . . ." he finally found the work order. "Here," he said, handing the man a thin, magnetized data chip. 

The guard looked at Wash's outstretched hand and the chip in it skeptically.

                "Come on," Wash said, pleaded, "It's cold out here. If I'm not supposed to be here, I'm supposed to be someplace else. I don't got a reader so . . ."

                "Right," the guard said gruffly, snatching the chip from Wash's hand and turning to enter the guard house where he could read it. Wash stepped to follow before the man turned and glared at the pilot. "You say out here," he ordered coldly.

                "Out here," Wash said, as the guard went in and the door closed. "Out here with the cold and the wind. I can stay out here, out here is just great."

                After a minute, the guard came out again, "Everything seems to be in order," he grumbled. "Apparently you were called in to fix the shuttle of a companion who is visiting the governor."

                "Ah," the pilot chuckled, "That explains it. Our shop has this agreement with the Companion's Guild, extremely profitable, getting more by the year, let me tell you. I am surprised though. I always figured the governor wouldn't be the type to call a companion, you know, real family man."

                "You will wait here for a guard to escort you to the shuttle," was the guards answer. 

                "Can I wait in the guard house?" Wash asked meekly, eyeing the warm structure. 

                "When you've finished with your repairs you will signal a guard and you will be escorted back here."

                "Great," Wash said, nodding, "Just great."

                The guard didn't say anything, he just offered the pilot one last glare and turned back to his post.

                "So here I wait," Wash muttered switching his tool box from his left hand to his right so he could put that poor, frozen appendage in the relatively unproductive pocket of his raincoat. "Standing in the damp cold, I wait."

* * *

                Bester sat in his office at his desk with the door opened and tinkered with a pile of fried transmitters. The guard and the housekeeping staff used them to send orders and keep in touch while working in the various parts of the large villa, and they had a tendency to drop them and break them. The pile had been building up on his desk for months and, because transmitters were easier to replace than they were to fix, he'd just kept on replacing them. But now that the damned sprained back had him in a wheel chair for up to three weeks and he had to do something.

                As he was rewiring what felt like the thousandth blown audio circuit, a noise in the hallway distracted him. It was not a loud noise, nor an unusual one, but he dearly longed to be distracted. Putting the transmitter down, he wheeled closer to the door and listened. 

                There were voices, two men talking, coming closer. The voices were hushed and the words were clipped; these men didn't want to be heard. Bester wheeled himself closer still. Leaning forward as much as his sprained back would let him, he eavesdropped.

                "Ain't like . . ." A gruff voice said so softly that Bester could only pick up a word here or there. " . . . . any idea . . . them _fay_ wu_ . . . "_

                "Well then . . ." another voice said, a voice that, for some reason, Bester thought he should know. Maybe it was one of the guards he'd gotten drunk with one night, or perhaps the sanitary engineer who always swept his office, or that clerk that sent out performance reviews . . . but none of those seemed quite right. He kept listening.

                " . . . gonna have ta . . . 'till we . . ."

                " . . . the guards . . . and ask what the . . . doin' here."

                "We'll just . . . that we got . . . from the tour . . . tryin' ta find . . . back."

                "_Mao niao, Mal . . ." the gruff voice said. " . . .ain't never . . . work."_

                Mal! That was it, Bester realized, that was the voice. Malcolm Reynolds, the bastard captain that had tossed him aside in favor of the local slut who, admittedly, was really hot and seemed to know her grav thrust from her power coupling, so Bester couldn't even really hold a grudge. Still, the opportunity to dump this lame-ass government job and pick up some work with a little zing in it was too good to pass up.

                Bester swung his wheel chair out into the middle of the hall and scooted after the voices. He found Mal, and another larger man he'd never met before. Perhaps Zoë's replacement, Bester thought, although Zoë was hot and this ape-man was, to put it succinctly, not.

                "Hey Mal!" Bester said excitedly, as soon as his old captain was in view.

                But Reynolds hadn't expected anyone to sneak up on him, and he certainly didn't expect anyone to know his name. He pivoted quickly, before Bester even finished his phrase, reaching for his handgun, an action which, under normal circumstances, would have made Bester very nervous.  But the villa had a very strict no-gun policy, so the mechanic knew before Mal did that the revolver wasn't there.  When Mal's hand hit his hip, he was forced to realize he didn't even have a holster.  

                "Mal, Mal," Bester said, jovially. "Don't cha remember me?"

                "Want I should kill him?" the ape-man asked, stepping forward with an eager gleam in his eye.

                "_Gei__ ji ren zhi fan shi gaung liang!" Mal spat. "Bester, that you?"_

                "Yeah!" the mechanic said excitedly, wheeling his chair a little closer "You remember me?"

                "Seein' you and little Kaylee humpin' in the middle of my engine room is an image that was, regrettably, burned into my mind," Mal said, his tone not quite friendly.

                "He did Kaylee?" the ape-man asked, his beady eyes widening with the thought. 

                "Jayne, shut-up." Mal snapped to the larger man. Turning to Bester, he said. "What the _di__ yu happened to you?"_

                "Got a job here," Bester explained excitedly. "Top maintenance man. Good pay, you know, but ah, I could be convinced to leave it if . . ."

                "Sorry," Mal said quickly. He was getting tetchy, Bester could tell, his eyes kept darting back and forth, looking for someone he didn't want to see. "Kaylee's workin' out just great and, as I believe we've discussed, I don't need two mechanics."

                "Sides, he couldn't do the job anyways," Jayne said, "Ship's a maze of stairs, he'd never get out a the cargo bay in that."

                "What?" Bester asked, "The chair? This is like a week's gig, tops, you know. Fell out of a ceiling, sprained my back. Then the _dai__ dai gan mei yong yi sheng godson of the governor here, all he does is help me to the bed, you know. My back's broke and all he can do is help me to bed!"_

                "_Mei__ young yi sheng?" Mal asked. "I don't suppose you'd be talkin' 'bout Dr. Simon Tam?"_

                "Yeah, I guess," Bester said, not really liking the gleam in Mal's eyes, like the cargo was on board and all that was left was to get paid. "Tam or Tram or somethin', we ain't supposed to be talkin' 'bout them."  
                "I don't suppose you know where they are right now, though, do you?" Mal asked. 

                "I could get in trouble . . ." Bester started, hoping to maybe, manipulate Mal into a more gracious position.

                "Lot less trouble than you'd get in if I got my hand's on you," Jayne said fiercely. "How fast you think one a them wheel chairs go 'fore it hit that far wall down there?"

                "I would be curious to find out," Mal said casually. "You see, we wouldn't be askin' 'cept this is a matter of some personal importance to us. As stupid-fucking-useless as he can sometimes be, Simon is our doctor and we want him back. Don't we Jayne?"

                "Yeah, right," Jayne muttered. "Do we ever."

                "Come on Mal," Bester begged. "It's boring as hell here. Take me with you." 

                "There's plenty a ships could use decent mechanics," Mal said. "If you can't find one, that ain't my fault. However, if I can't find Simon, then that is you're fault. And I have a feelin' Jayne here really is itching to know how fast one of these here wheelchairs can go."

                "Bet 'cha ten credits that I can get it to three kph 'fore it hits the wall."

                "_Fay hwah," Mal spat. "Couldn't get it over one."_

                "Fine," Bester grumbled. "They're in the east sitting room."

                "And how do we get there?"

                "Take a right at the end of this hall. It's 'bout thirty yards down, on the right. Big wooden doors."

                "How we know he's not leadin' us wrong?" Jayne asked. "Maybe we should give this here chair a test run, make sure."

                "Nah," Mal said gregariously patting the mechanic on his tattooed cheek. "Bester here's an old friend. He knows how important staying on good terms with old friends is."

                "Right," Jayne grunted, putting his rifle over his shoulder.

                "Well," Mal said crisply. "You've been most helpful. We're in your debt. Jayne, come on." He started walking quickly in the direction Bester had recommended. Jayne started to follow, but after a step, hesitated and turned.

                "So you really do it with Kaylee?" He asked quietly, so Mal couldn't hear.

                Bester nodded, more than a little intimidated by the large man with a girl's name.

                "Was she good?" Jayne asked. "You know, _zai__ i-tsz good?"_

                "Hell yeah," Bester chuckled, remembering the way she'd moaned, and he'd moaned.

                "Jayne!" Mal snapped, a little too loudly, as he waved insistently Jayne to follow.

                "Thanks," Jayne said quickly to Bester before jogging to follow his captain around the corner. 

Bester watched, a tad resentful for a second, then shrugged as much as his sprained back would allow. "That ship's still full of freaks." 

  
  


To be continued . . .


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter 20: In which it's time to say goodbye

"No," Simon gasped.  "You can't . . ."

                "Can't what?" his mother said.  "All were doing is asking you –"

                "To commit suicide?" Simon asked.  "To surrender River to a living hell?"

                "Language, Simon," Gabriel said with a warning in his voice.  

                "It's just words, Daddy," River said softly.  No one had realized she was awake, she hadn't moved.  But her voice was still clear and captivating.

                "River, dear," Gabriel said.  "You shouldn't defend your brother when you know he's doing wrong."

                "You're right," the girl said, pushing herself away from the chair she'd been lying on.  Her cheek was red where it was pressed against the chair and there was a clear mark where the seam had been.  "Simon is very wrong," she turned to look at her brother.  "I was bitterly disappointed but I've rested and I forgive you."

                "Forgive me?" Simon asked. "River what did I . . .?"

                "You didn't come," the girl said softly, weakly.  "Its teeth sank into me and it swallowed me and the cold choked me.  It hurt, Simon, it hurt and I died."

                "River, dear, you didn't die," Regan said soothingly.  

                "And you didn't come," River said, her voice was trembling and tears threatened to spill out of her eyes.  "But the walls are thick and the halls are long and I wonder if it didn't eat you too."

                "River," Gabriel said in his most fatherly tone.  "This is serious, stop babbling."

                "Don't treat her like that!" Simon snapped.  "If she says something, the least you can do is listen!"

                "She's rambling," Gabriel said, matching his son's anger notch by notch.  "Nothing she says makes sense."

                "They're just words!" River screeched. Her whole face was red and tears were streaming down her cheeks.  "It's talk and talk and someone's going to do something and we'll all wish there'd been fewer words."

                "River," Simon said compassionately.  He was stood up and moved towards her, but before he got a step closer his father grabbed him by the arm.

                "You are not her savior, do you understand that?" Gabriel yelled at his son.

                "I'll tell you what I understand," a very calm and cool voice said from the door.  The scene stopped, for a heartbeat and everyone turned to look at the doorway.  Mal was standing there with the sauntering confidence of a hero.  

                "Who?" Regan breathed.

                "Mal?" Simon asked, not believing his eyes.

                "Quiet time," River said, her sobs turning into gasps.  "Shhhhhh!"

                "Who the hell are you?" Gabriel said, letting go of his son's arm so he could face this new, foreign threat.

                "Captain Malcolm Reynolds," Mal said with a smile as he strolled in casually.  "But somewhat less important than my name, I think, is my observation."

                "What's that?" Regan breathed, too shocked by the man's mere presence to question his authority.

                "That there's a frightened little girl right here crying, and 'stead of rushing ta comfort her, her parents are stopping those who would."

                "Oh," Regan said, truly taken aback.

                "I'm going to ask again," Gabriel demanded.  "Who the hell are you?"

                "And I'll tell you again," Mal said amiability, pronouncing each syllable very slowly and clearly.  "I'm Captain Malcolm Reynolds."

                "That does not clarify the issue," Gabriel said between clenched teeth.

                "We're here for yer kids," Jayne's rough voice called as he pushed himself forward to stand next to Mal.  With or without guns, his presence was still a threat.    

                "What?" Regan gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

                "Crude and, ah, heartless, as Jayne is he happens to be absolutely correct.  We're here for the kids."

                "Is this a kidnapping attempt?" Gabriel asked with a laugh.  "Do you know where you are?"

                "It's not a kidnap," Simon said, his voice sounded a little dazed.  "'You're not a prisoner if you don't want to run away.'"

                River laughed sadly, "The words are falling over themselves, folds and echoes."

                "You can't take them," Gabriel said furiously.

                "You can't stop him," Simon retorted, having regained possession of himself.  "River and I would rather be dead than in the hands of the Alliance.  He's protected us, over and over."  The boy was slowly, defiantly backing away from his father, each step bringing him closer to his captain.   "You want me to turn myself in?  I can't do that.  If you're going to stop us, you're going to have to kill us."

                "Well, I'd rather see you dead than a filthy criminal!"

                "Hey," Jayne interjected.  "I take a bath 'least once a week."

                "I'll call the guards," the elder Tam continued, his voice strained with passion.  "They will come in hear and shoot anyone who offers resistance."

                "Simon," Mal said, "In the future don't suggest that people kill us.  Tend's to put bad ideas in the wrong people's heads."

                "He won't," Simon said with a sort of nervous confidence in his voice.

                "Won't I?" Gabriel spat.

                "No," Simon continued.  "Because we're your children.  And you love us."

                "Simon, please," Regan sobbed.

                "I'm sorry, Mom," the doctor said.  "But you have to love us enough let us go.  That's what we need."

                "We're your gifts," River said with a sniffle.  "Some people give money, some give time, but Mommy and Daddy gave us."  She turned to her brother and smiled beautifully, even though her eyes were red with tears.  "They gave you to humanity, Simon.  You would fix the 'verse's ills.  You would save lives.  You would be important.  You would make a difference."

                "River," Gabirel warned, "It would be best for you to say out of this."

                "Hey now," Mal said.  "It's her life. I think she should get her say."

                "You were going to give me to the humanities," River continued telling her father.  "A prima ballerina, pretty and perfect.  But that changed.  They wanted me and you saw what a gift I could be.  A politician, a military genius, a leader of men.  I was your gift to the Alliance."

                River unfolded herself from her chair and started walking towards her father.  He was looking at her with his hard gray eyes and very clearly trying hard keep command of this situation.  His skin looked ashen and his hands were trembling.  

                "I wanted to be what you saw for me, I wanted you to be proud," she reached her father and looked up at him, not condemningly, but sadly.  Tears were running down her cheeks.  "You told your friends I was special, that I'd been picked for a special school.  But I couldn't wear pink, or purple or blue.  You swelled with pride when positive evaluations were sent home.  But they took away the jumping ropes before they became nooses.  You dreamed of my reflected glory.  But I only had nightmares." 

                "River," Regan said, finally gathering herself together enough to push away from the couch and wrap herself around her daughter.  "We only ever wanted what's best for you.  You and Simon both."

                "Then let us go," Simon asked from across the room.  The boy's voice was thin with tears he didn't want to shed in front of Mal and Jayne.

                "I can understand how hard this is," Mal said, his voice was a little dewy as well. "But it is the best way.  I will protect your children."

                "Take Simon," Gabriel said harshly.  "He's obviously determined to go.  But you both know River needs more than you can give her."

                "What River needs is to be with people who love her more than their social position," Mal retorted.

                "How dare you!" Regan hissed.

                "Shhhh," River said, pulling away from her mother and, like Simon, backing herself closer to Mal and Jayne.  "The words are buzzing.  They'll sting."

                "I cannot accept that my children would choose you over—"Gabriel started.

                "What?" Mal interrupted.  "Death and torture?  You'd be surprised what people will chose over death and torture.  Although, having been tortured to death myself, I tend to think it gets a bad rap.  Now, can we go?"

                "Gotta say goodbye," River muttered, as if the seriousness and finality of the situation had just occurred to her.

                "Ain't that what you've been doin'?" Jayne asked, annoyed.

                "Please, Captain," Simon said softly.

                "Yes," Regan called, hurrying towards her children.  "Please, Captain Reynolds.  Just one last hug, one last kiss.  I swear, I'll let them go.  Truly let them go, so long as I can have that."

                "Fine," Mal muttered.  "Move it along."

                "Oh, River," Regan said, running forward, once more wrapping her arms around her daughter for what would undoubtedly be the last time.  "Oh, River, my baby.  And, Simon," Regan said, looking over her daughter's shoulder, stretching out her hand to him.  Simon reached out tentatively, and took it.  "You'll always be my little boy, my darling." She squeezed his hand. "I love you and I trust you to take care of her.  And yourself."

                The young man nodded mutely, too heartbroken to speak.  He was still trying not to cry, although that battle was clearly lost. 

                "Here," Regen said, slipping her hand away from her son and letting her daughter go so she could pull a delicate ring, gold woven like a Celtic knot around a dainty emerald, off her finger. "This ring, do you remember it?" Her voice was broken up with tearful gasps.  

                "Grandmother's and grandmother's and grandmother's before," River said, clearly in awe of the ring she'd known so well.  "From earth-that-was.  Emeralds are for memory.  They go back and they go forward, aid in knowing the past, aid in knowing the future."

                "It's yours now," Regan said, slipping the ring on the girl's hand.  "Please remember me.  Remember I love you. I love you so much!  You won't forget that, will you, that I love you so much I ache."

River was crying again, what she said came out in jerky gasps:

_Every child dreams of no greater lover_

_Than the ones provided by sweet fate_

_No embrace more welcome than your mother's_

_The longing for which never will abate_

_No kiss is gentler than your father's_

_When sleep is lingering and the hour's late_

_But of all affections greatest is the brother's_

_Not bound by chains nor held by any gate_

_For when darkness crashes in on this dream,_

_Darkness I have grown too weak to resist,_

_He is there, with a sword made of light beams_

_That cuts and clears away the mire and the mist_

_So, no matter how desperate my plight may seem_

_I have hope, as long as my brother's love persists._

                River smiled at her mother and kissed the older woman simply on the cheek.  Then, turning to her father, she ran to him and threw her arms around the older man.  He stood there, stoically, unsure if he'd lost everything by his own fault or it had been unjustly taken from him.  

                "I feel you ache too," River said, kissing him on the cheek.  "You would have come if you could have."

                She backed away, tears streaming down her face, and was the first to slip into the hallway, turning her back forever on her parents.  

                Jayne turned and followed the girl, eager to leave the room with its rampant and embarrassing emotions.

                "Doctor," Mal said, his voice cracking a little.  "We gotta go."

                "Right," Simon nodded, his bloodshot eyes locked with his parents, his sobbing mother and his very cold father.  "I . . ." he started, then faltered.  "I am sorry," he finally told them.  "And . . . if I could have . . ."

                "Simon," Regan said, her voice soft and motherly.  "_An_ xiao_."_

The boy smiled, almost, and nodded.  The closing his eyes, he turned, and walked out of the room.

                "I'm not gonna stand here and pretend I understand what you've just lost, just let go," Mal told the Tams softly once he was sure neither River nor Simon could hear.  "But I do know how special them kids are.  Don't know how much a comfort this will be, but you both know this hurt them as much as it's hurting you.  Still, for what it's worth, it was the right thing to do."

                "I don't need a criminal telling me what the right thing to do is," Gabriel snapped.

                "No, you don't," Mal nodded.  "Not now of all time's, I'm sure.  Well, then, _zai__ jien."_

*   *   *

                Zoë drummed her fingers on her pant legs and looked listlessly out the window.

                "Nervous?" Shepherd Book asked kindly.  He was sitting next to her, on the isle seat.  Across from them Kaylee, who'd been lulled fast asleep by the rocking of the train, resting her head on the window, as Newhope's landscape, now gray under the dark clouds, streamed by.  
                "No," the firstmate said, sucking in a deep breath and turning to the preacher with a smile on her face.  "I'm sure the captain will see that everything's just fine."

                "Of course," Book nodded.  She could tell she hadn't convinced him, because he went on, "There are other matters though."

                "If you want a conversation, preacher, you're going to have to be a little more clear."

                "How are you feeling?"  Book asked, with real concern.  

                "All right," Zoë said, with another large smile.  
                "It's not good to lie to a preacher," Book said with playful scolding.  

                "Between the killing and the stealing, I don't think lying to a preacher's gonna make that big a difference."  
                "Oh you'd be surprised," Book said.  "Peter himself wrote, 'For the eyes of the Lord are over the righteous, and his ears are open unto their prayers: but the face of the Lord is against them that do evil.'"

                "Is this your subtle way of letting me know you're praying for us?"

                "Not so subtle, really," Book said.  

                Zoë chuckled to herself and smiled, this time genuinely.  "My back aches," she admitted.  "And my belly.  Just pregnancy pains I guess.  Most days wouldn't give them no mind but . . ." Zoë sighed,   

                "You'd rather think about them than worry over the others."

                "I should be there, Shepherd."

                "You did you're part," Book said. 

                "A noisy cat could of done my part."

                "The Captain wants you out of harms way."

                "And I understand that," Zoë said with a sigh, "And he is the captain, and I ain't gonna over worry him by doing anything stupid.  But, as is, I ain't doin' anything at all."

                "You're keeping where he doesn't have to worry over you.  And I'm sure that's a great weight off his mind."

                "He knows me well enough to know . . ."

                "You are pregnant, Zoë," Book said.

                "I know," the woman said, letting a little of the pain her stomach and back was giving her flicker into her eyes.  

                "It's a temporary state," Book assured her.  "When the baby is born . . ."

                "Mal's gonna see me like a mother," Zoë cut him off.  "It's one thing makin' Wash a widower, it'd be another ta make my child an orphan."

                "You don't know what will happen in the future," Book said.

                "No offence, preacher, but that's pretty weak comfort."

                "In that case, everything will be fine.  Life will return to normal, we'll fall into great money and all settle down together on a beautiful ranch somewhere.  The Captain will give up thieving.  Inara will give up her life as a companion.  River will get better.  Simon and Kaylee will be married.  You and Wash will have more children than you've ever dreamed of, and all of them will be happy and healthy."

                Zoë couldn't help but laugh.

                "Did I leave anything out?"

                "No," she chuckled.  "I think that 'bout covers it."

*   *   *

                Mal felt that the mad rush from the east sitting room to the shuttle pad did go smooth, although, he couldn't have said it was easy.  Jayne lacked many skills, but finding his way out of dangerous situations was not one of them; so he led the way.  He'd spent the better part of the last night memorizing the villa's layout and he could have found their way to the shuttle from anyplace, be it deepest darkest wine cellar or the highest pinnacle of the carillon.  From a centrally placed sitting room, he had no trouble at all.  

                Mal followed, leading River, who was sobbing so fiercely she could barely walk.  When he'd exited the room she'd been muttering to herself, and the muttering turned into sniffles and the sniffles into full-fledged weeping.  She was blind and deaf to anything but her grief and they didn't have time to let her compose herself and get over it.  So he'd wrapped his arm around the girl's shoulders and insisted that if she had to cry, she might as well cry and walk.  

                More disconcerting than River's whaling, however, was Simon's absolute silence.  The boy didn't even offer a word of comfort to his sister.  He didn't rush to take care of her and relive his captain of the burden.  Under normal circumstances, Mal would have been annoyed, but, of course, under normal circumstances, the boy would never let anyone else take responsibility for his sister.  Simon's grief was burning inside of him, consuming him; there wasn't enough of him at this moment to give any to River.  This was a temporary fault which Mal could forgive.  To the young doctor's credit, his broken heart wasn't slowing them down.  Mal could hear his uneven, sniffle-ridden breathing a constant two feet behind them as they kept a fast pace through the maze of marble hallways.  

                The plan was going so smooth, in fact, that Mal was almost relived to see a man, too tall and stocky to be Wash, standing in front of the shuttle in a firm you'll-never-get-past-me sort of way.  Considering Kaylee'd all but spilled the plan, the smoothness of the whole thing was starting to worry Mal.

                "You would be Mal, I presume," the man said, stepping forward to greet the rapidly approaching party.

                "Captain Malcolm Reynolds," Mal said, he wanted to let go of River but he was afraid if he did she'd fall to the ground, so he made the best of it and hoped that he could look mighty and intimidating even as he tried to comfort a sobbing 17-year-old.  "And who might you be?"

                "Reginald Comworth," the man said.  "I'm the governor of this planet and, coincidentally, Simon's godfather."

                "So you're him," Mal said, his voice edgy.  This man had won the admiration of both Kaylee and Inara, and it wasn't hard to see why.  He looked just like everybody's favorite grandfather, jolly and plump, but still firm and strong, his voice was kind yet commanding and he seemed to exude good-will.  He didn't seem like the typical Alliance headpiece, but after all, the man was a politician.  "Can't really say I'm glad to meet you."

                "I assume you'll be taking Simon and River."

                "That is the plan," Mal said.

                "You gonna try and stop us?" Jayne asked, clearly hoping the answer would be yes.

                Jayne was disappointed.

 "No," Comworth said.  "I just wanted to say goodbye."

                "Uncle Reggie," River said, pulling away from the Captain and throwing herself at the older man.  He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the top of her head.  

                "You'll always be in my prayers, River, dear," the old man said, choking a little.  

                "Your love didn't fail," The girl told the old man, pulling slightly away from him so he could see her smile up at him adoringly.  

                "I take it then," Mal said, trying not to sound harsh or insensitive. "That you're just gonna let us go."

                "As I told your mechanic, I understand."

                "Forgive me if I don't know the exact meaning of that extremely vague phrase as you're using it."

                "You've cared for these children for the past few months, probably the most difficult months of their lives, and you care enough about them to ignore their substantial bounties and risk your lives to steal them away from this place."

                "You ain't telling me anything I don't already know," Mal said.

                "I understand that you are an honorable man.  I understand that Simon and River are safer with you than they would be anywhere else. I understand that finding you is probably the best thing that could have happened to them.  That is what I understand.  And so, similarity, I understand that I have to let them go."

                "No," River whimpered.  "The world was tattered and faded but now we're ripping it apart."

                "It's all right, sweetheart," Comworth said, stroking her hair lovingly.    

                "Come on, now," Mal said, stepping closer to the older man and the young girl.  There was a second when the captain's eyes meet the governor's and then, Comworth looked down at River.

                "You have to go now," He told her.  "You know you do."

                River nodded, and let Mal pull her out of the old man's arms.  

                "It's time we're leavin'," Mal said, glancing behind him at Jayne and Simon.

                "Right," Jayne said, apparently unmoved by or unconcerned with what had just happened.  He jogged past Mal and River, hurrying up to the door to the shuttle and pushing in the code.  It slid open and Janye jumped in saying, "start her up."

                The shuttle came to life, the whole landing pad was filled with the gentle hum of a well maintained engine and there was a sudden warm breeze from the displaced air as the small craft began to hover.

                "Pleasure meetin' ya," Mal said, nodding respectfully towards the governor.

                "The feeling is mutual," Comworth said.

                "Simon," Mal called over his shoulder, to the near catatonic doctor.  "Better say whatever good-byes you have.  We can't dally here."

                "Yes, sir," the boy said, not bothering to look at the captain.  His sad gray eyes were fixed on Comworth, unblinking, as tears trickled down his cheeks.

                Mal nodded and ushered River into the shuttle. "Let's give your brother some privacy," he told the girl.  

                "Simon needs more than that," she whispered.  "Can you give him a heart unbroken?"

                "No," Mal said, turning River around and sitting her on the companion's bed.  "Ain't a soul alive who's got one."

To be continued . . .


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter 21:  In which there is an abundance of comings and goings

                "You're in every one of my happiest memories," Simon told his godfather, taking a step closer to the old man once Mal and River were safely in the shuttle.  "I thought you were perfect, that everything good and noble about humanity could be found in you.  And I want to say I'm sorry."

                "For idolizing me?" Comeworth said, somewhat surprised.

                "For doubting that was true," Simon corrected.  "What you're doing today . . . letting us go . . ."

                "Simon," Comworth said, reaching out and putting his hand on the boy's moist cheek.  "I do love you.  And you're parents, they love you as well."

                "I know," Simon said softly.

                "I told River she'd be in my prayers.  You know you will be as well, twice as often."

                "Thank you."

                "I'm very proud of you," Comworth said, pulling the boy into a loving hug.  Simon squeezed his eyes shut and tried to find some comfort in this last embrace, but all he could feel was the pain of loss.

                "Here," Comworth said after they'd pulled away.  His voice cracked and there were tears in his eyes as well.  "I want you to have this."  He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small tin box almost exactly like the one in the top drawer of Comworth's desk, only newer, without any fond dents of memory.

                "Peppermints?" Simon asked, laughing and crying with the same breath.

                "A few," the old man said.  "But there are other things, things I want you to have.  Things I always meant to give to you.  Truthfully, I'm glad I got this chance."

                "I'm sorry," Simon said earnestly, taking the box.

                "Nothing that's happened is your fault," Comworth said.  "Not one man in a thousand would have acted as nobly as you."

                Simon smiled through his tears.  "Thank you . . . for . . . for everything."

                "It was all my pleasure," Comworth said, his voice catching.  "But now it's time for goodbye."

                "Yes," Simon breathed, nodding.  He didn't dare hug his godfather again, or even shake his hand.  Instead, he nodded respectfully. "Goodbye, sir."

                "Goodbye, Simon," The governor said, matching the doctor in detachment.  It should have made it easier.  It didn't.

                The second Simon was fully in the shuttle Mal closed the door and locked it.  "All aboard, Wash," he yelled to the pilot in the cockpit.  "Take off!"

                The small shuttle lurched as it rose.  The few extra pounds of gravity overwhelmed Simon and he felt his knees give way.  He plopped down on the Companion's bed, and managed to keep himself to a sitting position.  Any other day, he would have worried that Mal or Jayne had recognized his weakness for what it was, but his head reeled and all he could think of was that his life was over.

                He knew it wasn't, of course. He knew that whatever life he would have lived if he'd stayed with his parents would have been a life of imprisonment and pain.  On _Serenity_, he could live. He could help River, he could flirt with Kaylee, he could learn from Mal, he could do and see and experience more than he'd ever imagined growing up in the prim aristocracy of the Core.  His life had become an adventure, Simon realized, exciting and heroic.  But presently, that felt like little more than a small bandage for the gapping chest wound he'd suffered.

                Simon took a deep determined breath and exhaled it evenly.  He couldn't be crippled by his emotions; there were more important things to worry about.

                "Where's Kaylee?" he asked.  His voice sounded weak and scratchy, even to him.

                "On a train back to Sweet Well," Mal said.  "Should a left about twenty minutes ago."

                "Good," Simon said, nodding.

                A quiet grew in the shuttle; the only sound was the engine noise.

                "So," Mal finally said, trying to smile cheerily at the doctor.  "What's in that box?"

                "What?" Simon asked, his mind had been far away, on a train with Kaylee.

                "That box there," Mal said, nodding at the tin object Simon had forgotten he was holding.  "What's in it?"

                "Ah," Simon said uncertainly.  "I'm not sure."

                "You gonna open it?" Jayne asked.

                Simon looked down at the box, seeing his reflection in its smooth surface.  "Not yet," he said softly.  

                "Why not?" Jayne asked.  

                "Because," Mal said, a good amount of venom in his voice.  

                "How long until we reach _Serenity_?" Simon asked to change the subject.  

                "'Bout half an hour," Wash called from the cockpit.  "Assuming we don't run into any torrential rain storms."

                "Yeah," Mal muttered, pushing himself off the couches he'd been sitting on and walking across the room to the cockpit to look over Wash's shoulder.  "Considering the weather these past few days that's expecting a lot."

                "It won't rain," River said softly.

                Simon had almost forgotten that his sister way lying behind him, crying.  He was stung by a sudden sharp guilt that, discouragingly, was a relief from the pressing grief.  He quickly turned around and stroked his pretty sister's hair comfortingly.  "How you doin', _Mei_ mei_?"_

                 "The rain will come at night," she said.  She wasn't crying, as he'd thought she was, but was curled up in a very tight ball, her hands inches away from her face, playing with the emerald ring between her forefingers and thumbs.  "You think its cold now, wait till the darkness."

                "You didn't answer my question," Simon said, still stroking her hair softly.  He wondered if the action was as comforting for her as it was to him.

                "I don't want to think about me," she said.  "Then I'll start to rain."

*   *   *

                Kaylee was the first to get off the train.  She looked adorable, Mal thought, in her bright yellow raincoat and oversized overalls cuffed half way up her calves.  Ridiculous, but adorable.  

                "Hey!" she said, throwing herself at Mal.   "You're back!"  

                "What, you think we'd get caught?" Mal said, hugging the young mechanic warmly.  

                "Not for a minute," Book assured the captain as he stepped off the train.

"Just 'cause you do somethin' Little Kaylee, don't mean that everybody's gotta do it," Mal said, letting the girl out of the hug.  

"You teasing me?" she laughed joyously.  Part of that joy might have come from the fact that she was still close enough to dig her elbow into his side for an affectionate rebuke.

"There's my sweet butter ball," Wash said, rushing forward to help Zoë down the short and unimposing steps off the train. 

"I am in no way, shape or form, a butter ball," Zoë said, too relieved by her captain's and husband's presence to be properly upset.

"That's subject to change," Wash said with a little giggle, brushing his face so close to Zoë's that their noses touched.  The first mate broke into a peal of laughter and kissed her husband on the tip of his nose, which only made Wash laugh harder.

"Ok, ok," Mal said, trying not to sound as giddy as he was. "They'll be plenty of time for that later.  We got us a party to go to."

"Party?" Kaylee asked eagerly.

"Yeah," Mal said, his sternness slipping into a smile.  "Your parents seem predisposed to celebrate every little thing."

"So, ah," the girl said, her eyes darting up and down the platform.  "Simon and River'll be there?"

"Jayne, too, if you care," Mal said, giving his mechanic a teasing nudge with his elbow.

"'Course I care," Kaylee said incredulously.  "It's just . . ."

"I know," Mal laughed.  "Come on, there's a party waiting for us."

*  *   *

                "This is simply unacceptable," Inara said.  She hoped she looked furious, not worried to death.  "I didn't send out a work order.  Why didn't anyone contact me?"

                "The paperwork seemed in order," the sergeant said humbly 

                "And you seem incompetent," Inara said, lacing her voice with disgust.  "I demand to speak to your commander."

                "I am the commander in charge of this—"

                "Than I demand to speak to the governor," Inara clipped.  "Immediately."

                "Yes, ma'am," the sergeant said, bowing and retreating.  

                Inara waited for what seemed like an eternity.  It was, in reality, only a few minutes, but the very demeanor of the whole villa was such that time seemed to have slowed to a painfully languid pace.

                Of course, the whole morning had seemed to crawl by for the anxious companion.  She glanced continuously at the clock as Genie did her lessons.  1000: the tour had started the horrible waiting.  1045: Mal and Jayne separate from the group, past the point of no return.  1105: Zoë was meeting Kaylee and Book, all aid out of reach.  1125: the three non-combatants boarded a train for Sweet Well, the end of the timeline Inara could follow.  From 1125 until just before noon Inara was torn apart by worry.  Genie noticed it and had the very good taste to mention it only once, and drop the subject when Inara made it abundantly clear her nervousness was not a valid topic for discussion.  

                Still, the hardest part of the whole ordeal was when a guard came in to inform her that her shuttle had been stolen.  She was instantly filled with joy, so relived that she felt she would burst into tears, and she had to pretend to be shocked, horrified, and furious.  A good Companion is always perfectly in control of her emotions, and Inara was a very good companion, but those first fifteen seconds were high on her list from the hardest seconds of her life.

                She paced as she waited, there was nothing better to do.  Genie's classes had been canceled, again, which wasn't so bad.  There was little more Inara could teach the girl.  She'd really already known all the rules of polite society, she'd just never bothered to follow them.  And as soon as the girl was surrounded by high society she would undoubtedly pick up the more subtle habits and mannerisms.  With that in mind, Inara decided she'd offer to reimburse the Governor for the two days classes had been interrupted by the Tam's drama and hurry to Sweet Well.  She didn't want to keep up this charade any longer than absolutely necessary.  

                "Ms. Serra," Comworth's kind yet authoritative voice said from behind her.  

                Inara swiveled and looked at the Governor with a cold and hard grace, "Would you mind explaining to me what happened to my shuttle?"

                "No," Comworth said, stepping properly into the room and walking over to the small table near the window where Genie and Inara had been working.  Inara followed him uncertainly, there was something on his mind, and she didn't think it was grief or guilt over her lost shuttle, nor even over Simon and River.  He, like she, was very carefully controlling his emotions.

                "Well?" Inara demanded, truthfully exasperated. 

                "It was taken," Comworth said, turning to her.  

                "I gathered that," Inara snapped.  "How?"  
                "By thieves," the governor said.

                Inara smiled at him bitterly, "Sir, may I ask how a pack of common thieves with forged papers got past your well trained, well-paid guards?"

                "I never said common thieves," Comworth said, picking up a sheet of haikus Genie had been working on: 

_"The joy of her here_

_Gets lost when I see her eyes_

_Which can not see joy__"_

He read aloud.  "I take it this is about River."

                "I had her write them mostly to practice her calligraphy," Inara said, forcing herself to stay mad.  "Now, about my shuttle?"

                "It's gone, I'm afraid," Comworth sighed.  "Absolutely nothing I can do."

                Outwardly, Inara sighed in disgust. Inwardly, her heart soared at the realization that the governor wasn't going to dedicate all his resources to getting the shuttle back.  It occurred to her that, maybe, she suggest he ought to, that's what any person in such a situation would do, but she didn't want to give him any ideas.

                "Well," She spat, figuring a quick change of subject would make her obvious flub a little less obvious.  "I can't stay here any longer."

                "You don't feel safe?" Comworth asked, he sounded almost amused.

                "Let's just say I don't feel very lady-like," Inara spat.  "It won't make a difference if I leave a few hours early.  Genie knows everything; it's just a matter of practice.  She can practice just fine without me."

                "Yes, she and River could practice together," Comworth said flatly.

                Inara, for all her training and emotional control, couldn't keep herself from going pale.

                "That is," the governor continued, drawing his voice out, clearly meaning to make her wait. "If River hadn't gone today."

                Again, Inara felt relief wash over her, and again she had to force herself not to show it.  "Did the Tams leave?" Inara said, trying to fill her voice with detached curiosity.  "I would have liked to say goodbye."

                "Ms. Serra," Comworth sighed.  "Please.  I wanted to see how far you would take this game. Clearly you'll take it to the very end.  Let's stop playing."

                That was a very discouraging thing to hear.  Still, Inara pressed on.  "What do you mean, game?" she spat.  "My shuttle was just stolen and –"

                "Your shuttle wasn't stolen," Comworth said, his patience clearly growing thin.

                "What do you mean?" She asked cagily. "The guard just said . . ."

                "The shuttle isn't, technically, yours, is it?" Comworth asked pointedly.

                "Fine, so the shuttle I rent was stolen."

                "From whom do you rent it?" 

                "The captain," Inara clipped, terrified of where this conversation was going.  "I don't see what this has to do . . ."

                "If I'm going to reimburses you for the shuttle, I should know to whom I ought send the money."

                That sounded so reasonable. Inara swallowed hard and tried to sound just as reasonable.  "I'm sorry, I'm just a little upset.  The man's name is Malcolm Reynolds.  Although, if you want to reimburse him you'll have to give me the cash.  He doesn't trust banks."

                "A little paranoid?"

                "Only when it comes to . . . well, yes, I suppose he is."

                "He may be paranoid," Comworth sighed.  "But no one could call him cowardly or fearful."

                "That's true," Inara said very slowly.  "But how . . ."

                "I just met him," the governor confessed.  "In fact, he just stole Simon and River, if not the shuttle."

                "_He deng ge e mo e meng" Inara muttered, sinking into one of the table's straight backed wooden chairs._

                "No," Comworth said, sitting down in the other chair and leaning forward so he could talk to her intimately.  "No, I let them go."

                "What?" Inara said, truly shocked.

                "River was tortured," he said, choking out each word.  "And Simon acted notably and courageously to save her, only to have his own life ruined.  How could I turn them back to the monsters that destroyed them in the first place?  I love those children."

                There was no question in her mind that the governor was being sincere.  Inara let her relief at hear the shuttle was stolen and the Tams were gone peal out of her in a laugh that was half a sob.  But her emotional catharsis was only allowed a second, she took a deep breath and turned to the governor smiling.  "You are also a noble and courageous man," Inara said, reaching out and squeezing the governor's hand.  

                "I'd be slightly more comforted by that observation if you weren't presently in my employ," Comworth said, forcing himself to laugh.

                Inara smiled at him charmingly.  "I quit a minute ago, don't you remember?"

                He laughed again, and smiled.  "Well, then, I suppose matters should be settled between us and you should find a way back to your ship.  I think it might be best if you take public transportation.  If one of my gaurds would just happen to see Simon or River near your ship . . ."

                "Of course," Inara said.  "I actually enjoy train rides.  I haven't had a chance to take one for quite some time."

                "Well then, it's settled," Comworth said.  "I'll arrange for the tickets."

                "That's very kind of you," Inara said.  "If you'd be so kind as to show me an accessible Cortex screen I'll reimburse you for the days –"

                "Nonsense," Comworth said.  "You've done a wonderful job.  Genie is quite the lady, now, when she chooses to be.  Besides, I'm not so sure I want to send her to the Core anymore.  I couldn't for a while, at least."

                "You've lost a lot in your life," Inara observed.

                "Simon and River are not lost," Comworth said with a deep breath.  "Just . . . just hidden."

                "Does it help, thinking of it like that?"

                "I don't know," Comworth said.  "I think over time, it probably will."

                He smiled at Inara, kindly and sadly.  Inara smiled back.

*   *   *

                "Hey you," Kaylee's soft, kind voice said just behind Simon.  He didn't turn his head, but continued to stare off into the Frye's large back yard.  It was gray and dull and suited his mood far better than the joyous party going on inside the house behind him.  "Ain't cha cold?" the girl asked, sitting herself down next to him on the old uneven steps between the kitchen door and the yard.  

                Simon didn't really want to answer the question, but neither did he want to be rude to Kaylee.  "I don't mind," he said.  His voice was soft and hoarse.

                "Humm," the girl said softly, reaching out and taking his right hand in both of hers.  "Your hand's like ice," she said, her voice laced with concern.

                "Maybe I should have said I don't care," Simon said.

                "Can't imagine that," she said, scooting closer to him and wrapping herself around his right arm, which was suddenly pleasantly warm.  "You always care.  You're caring."

                Simon chuckled bitterly.  "Then I think I've earned a break."

                Kaylee leaned her head on his shoulder, spreading her warmth.  "It's nice and cool out here," she said conversationally.  "It's all hot and stuffy inside.  Loud, too.  Every time Zoë opened a present the whole room gasped, like they ain't never seen baby stuff before.  I mean, I guess maybe some of them ain't – men don't usually go ta showers, but, I guess you know that."

                Simon didn't answer.  The fact was that this was the first baby shower he'd ever been invited to.  He felt a little guilty missing it but the few seconds he'd forced himself to be surrounded by over a dozen bright, happy people it felt like someone was taking a hot poker to his heart.  He couldn't stand it.  If he hadn't run out to the cool quiet of the Frye's back yard he probably would have burst into tears or screamed or done something infinitely more rude and disruptive than not attending.

                "She did like your present though," Kaylee said encouragingly.  "Didn't really understand it but figured if ya gave it ta her she must need it."

                "B-12 supplements are necessary for the development of a fetus's brain," Simon rattled off, turning to look at Kaylee for the first time since the girl had come out to see him.  Her eyes were so dark and deep, he felt like he could fall into them, and he wanted to.  "I," he stuttered, coming to himself after a minute, "I didn't know what to give her."

                Kaylee smiled up at him, "She liked it, really."

                Simon felt himself smile a little at the pretty girl.  He highly doubted Zoë had really liked a bottle of pills, but it was so kind of Kaylee to say.  

                "Course," Kaylee continued, smiling up at the doctor.  "Her favorite gift was that doll River made."

                "That must have made River happy," Simon said.  He was starting to get cold and his teeth were threatening to chatter.  He hadn't felt the least bit chilled until Kaylee had come out and made part of him warm.

                "She spat out a poem, then and there," Kaylee said.  "I . . . I think maybe bein' reminded of the baby, havin' this shower, made the day a little easier for her.  Redeemed it, ya know?"

                "Probably," Simon said, sucking a deep breath in through his teeth.  "Where is River?"

                "Stole away somewhere with Jack," Kaylee said.  "Probably in an out of the way room upstairs.  They've been told not ta leave the house and, after what happened at our last little outing, I got no doubt they'll stick close."

                "I'm sorry," Simon said, turning back to look at her. 

                "'Bout what?"

                "Our last little outing."

                Kaylee smiled at him and squeezed his ice cold hand.  "I know."

                Simon stared at her a moment then closed his eyes and turned away.  "So," he said crisply.  "My beautiful, emotionally disturbed, seventeen-year-old sister is alone in a bedroom with a handsome, charming boy the same age."

                "Come on, now," Kaylee urged with a chuckle in her voice. She was rubbing her right hand up and down his arm affectionately, sending delightful shivers through his body each time.  "What's the worse that could happen?"

                "Humm, interesting question," Simon said, not quite playfully.  "I suppose the worse that could happen would be them having sex."

                "Simon," Kaylee scolded.  She stopped stroking his arm, but didn't let go of his hand.

                "Well, they could," the boy said dryly.  His eyes were fixed on the edge of the gray wood beyond the gray yard.  "If she cuts herself after kissing than the catharsis after intercourse should be something to look forward to."

                "Simon," Kaylee tried again, to no greater avail.

                "No," the doctor said, tumbling headlong into his own dark sarcasm.  "This, this is a game I should play more often.  How bad could River's life get?  How could it get worse?"

                "What'd she say if she heard you," Kaylee snapped, sitting up, but not letting go of his hand.

                "She'd join in," Simon answered confidently.  "Oh, you know what, she could get pregnant," he said with an edgy laugh.  "That would be fun.  She and Zoë could have two little babies, same age.  Like Paul and Virginia, 'cause that story had a happy ending."

                "Simon, stop it!" Kaylee demanded, pulling her hand out of his. "What are you talkin' about?"

                Simon turned to look at her, left cold by her physical retreat.  She was mad and upset with her usually wide, brown eyes narrowed into fuming slits and her perpetually smiling mouth pressed into an almost alien scowl.  Suddenly his cruel musings seemed distinctly unpalatable; he swallowed hard to get the bitter taste out of his mouth.  

                When he answered her, his voice was soft and tentative, almost apologetic.  "They – they were lovers."  He told her, staring into her eyes.  "From this old French novel.  They, they grew up together, constantly professing their love which was, in a way, incestuous, but if you can get past that to the, well, melodrama . . ."

                Kaylee laughed forgivingly and slipped her hand back in his, wrapped her arm around his, and rested her chin once again on his shoulder.  "Didn't like it, huh?"

                "I didn't see why we couldn't read something fun, like _2000 _Leagues Under the Sea_, or _Notre Dame du Paris_."_

                "Ya said it didn't end well," Kaylee said.  "How's it end?"

                "She's sent away," Simon said, reaching up and brushing a wisps of hair out of the girl's eyes.  In his mind's eye, he could see her as she was only yesterday, although it seemed like a lifetime ago and a world away, standing in his godfather's office, small and frightened yet bold and lovely in her bright yellow raincoat and denim jumper.  "She swears that she'll return to him, and for years he waits, burning with love."

                Kaylee giggled again; she was a sucker for romance.  

                Simon couldn't help but smile as he finished the story, although he felt it was somewhat unbefitting of the narrative.  "Finally she comes back but they lived on this little tropical island, you see, and the boat, one of those big old wooden boats they had during the colonial period of Earth-that-was .  . ."

                "Yeah," Kaylee urged, far more interested in the romance than the setting.

                "It couldn't dock because there was a hurricane coming.  So Paul and this old man, the narrator of the story, they go about half way around the island to see the ship and they do.  Virginia's on the deck and she sees Paul and waves at him and he's so consumed by his love that he jumps in the water and starts swimming after her.  At least, I think he swims, maybe he had a canoe or . . ."

                "And" the girl prompted.

                "And the hurricane comes," he said, managing to keep a sober face, even if she was squeezing his arm a little too tight in the most adorable way.  "Paul is dashed against the side of the boat.  Virginia is thrown off it."

                Kaylee gasped.  "Did they . . ."

                "The old man found Virginia dead on the beach.  Paul was alive."

                "Oh," she whimpered.   She was so wrapped up in the story that she was squeezing his hand almost painfully.  He reveled in it.

Still, he managed to finish his story with the proper mournful tone.  "But he died, two months later, I think, of a broken heart.  And their mothers, who were very good friends, of course, both had the same dream of Paul and Virginia as children playing in a beautiful, tropical garden."

                "Oh," Kaylee said again, disentangling one arm so she could wipe away the tears streaming down her face.

                It was a sweet moment, a tender moment, and Simon could feel himself being pulled towards the girl.  He knew he was going to kiss her because the part of him he considered his 'better judgment;' the part that told him not to, that told him he shouldn't take that step, that told him there wasn't enough of him to go around, had been worn out by the days traumas.  All he could think of was how warm Kaylee was, how soft, how inviting.  "Kaylee," he said, drawing her attention, turning him towards her, as he leaned forward, his intentions clear.

                And at that moment, the hardest, meanest and most intrusive voice Simon had ever heard demaned, "What's goin' on?" 

To be continued . . .


	23. Chapter 22

Chapter 22: In which there is a bouquet of romances 

The attic of Kaylee's house was dim and filled with shadows. And after Jack turned on the lights and the dimness seemed a little less pronounced, the shadows just got bigger.

"I made somethin' for ya," he said eagerly, beaming at her.

River smiled back at him nervously. She hadn't gotten a present for a very long time, since before the Academy. Sure, Simon had given her things, cloths, paper and pencils, books. They showed love, but a more steadfast, caring, type of love; the type of love that gives you what you need. Not the type of love that spontaneously gives lavish gifts. Not that Jack could give anything lavish, but anything he would give her would definitely not fall under the category of 'necessity.'

"I don't have a gift for you."

"Let me say this first," Jack said. "I got the whole speech planed out. I don't want to mess it up."

"Ok," she said, smiling at him again. He wanted so badly for this to be special for her. He had no idea that just his wanting that was enough for River.

"We ain't known each other long," Jack said. "And a lotta girls would think me real forward. But when I first saw you I, well, I just knew that you were special, you were different."

River had always known that she was special and different. These were not new fact to her. But she also knew that the way Jack meant it was very, very unlike the way her parents, her teachers, even Simon, meant it. She liked Jack's way better. It made her blush. 

"I never," he faltered a little. River waited eagerly for him to continue. Eventually, he did, "I never kissed a girl 'till the other night, the night I kissed you. I never wanted to. All the girls, the girls in this town, they're petty and mean and they want to get husbands and have babies and they don't care about adventures and dreams or any of that stuff. But you do. And so, and--and by the way," he quickly interjected as his brown eyes focused very intently on the floorboards at his feet. "I'll understand perfectly if you say no, I mean, I'm not really thinking you'll say yes, but, I gotta ask," he laughed nervously and looked up. "Ya know?"

River didn't know. Her bashful smile slipped into confusion and she shook her head.

"Anyways," he said, clearing his throat. "I wanted to give you this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wooden ring. "I carved it myself," he said, looking at it, seeing all the flaws and none of the prettiness. "Hope it fits." 

He thrust it towards her the way a patient expecting a shot gives their arm to a doctor, quickly and with clenched teeth. River, however, did not have the cool detachment of a doctor. The violence of his action made her take a startled step back. And then, as he stood there, wooden ring in hand, heart on a platter, she realized what was going on. Or, at least, started to.

"I can't," she said sadly. "We can't."

"Can't what?" Jack asked, lowering the ring, the pathetic look of a rejected man twisting his youthful face.

"Can't be in love," River said, more firmly. "It's okay if you're in the same place. On the same world, on the same ship. But _Serenity_ leaves and I leave. Doesn't matter whose on this planet. Doesn't matter who I love."

"Well," Jack said, a smile quickly spreading across his face. "Well, I know that. I weren't proposing or anything. This is a promise ring," he said, holding it out to her again, this time with more grace. "It means you'll promise not to forget 'bout me, not so long as you have it."

"Oh," River said, smiling a little and then laughing sheepishly. "I can remember."

"I thought you could," Jack said. "Come on, see if it fits."

River picked up the ring and held it in her delicate fingers. It was very simple, a band made of pine and at the top, where a stone would be in a metal ring, there was pretty daisy. The emerald ring had been a little too large for her ring finger, so Simon had put it on her middle finger, where it fit, if not snugly, and nagged her to be extra careful of it. This ring was too small for her ring finger, and just barely fit on her pinky. "It's beautiful," she said dreamily, admiring her now-much-adorned hand.

"I'm not as good a carver as most," Jack admitted. "There are some boys who can make vines and roses and . . ."

"Daisy is perfect," River asserted. "Innocent," she giggled, "Thoughts of absent friends."

"Still," Jack muttered.

"It's beautiful because you made it," River said. "You made it for me. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Jack laughed, relieved, "I'm glad you like it. I mean, real glad."

"I wish I had something for you," River said, suddenly feeling inadequate and unworthy. She wanted to run and hide somewhere and cry. He had made her something and she didn't have anything to give him back. It took all her strength of will to remember what Simon had said; if she wanted Jack's attentions, which she did, she would have to deal with these emotions. And she was pretty sure that running and hiding so she could cry would not have been a proper way of dealing.

"Well," Jack explained. "What happens is the boy gives the girl the ring, the promise ring. And I ain't surprised you don't know, 'cause there ain't any boys on your ship, but then the girl gives the boy some of her hair and he ties it up with a string from her dress or a snip of ribbon and he keeps it in his pocket, so he always is thinking of her."

Relief washed over River like a flood. "I have hair," she said, almost laughing. She would gladly have given him all of it, and been bald, if that's what he wanted.

"I know," he replied with a smile. 

"How much do you need?" she asked.

"Just a snip," he explained.

"You can have more," River said. "I have a lot of hair."

"But it looks so pretty on you," Jack said. "I couldn't take more than a snip."

River felt herself blush again. She thought it was the best feeling in the world.

* * * 

Simon and Kaylee were both shocked by the sudden appearance of a third party. They both quickly sat straighter, and turned to look at the interloper. 

"Henderson Ringwood," Kaylee spat angrily as the boy, whose hover boat she adored, sauntered towards them. "What the hell you doin' here"

"I came over ta get my ma," Henderson said. "She came over to cook or sew or something for some party."

"Well, they're all inside," Kaylee said cagily, standing up and climbing off the steps to give Henderson a path. Simon did the same, feeling awkward and a little embarrassed at being caught in such a tender moment by a complete stranger.

"This is Simon, right?" Henderson said, stepping a little closer to the doctor.

"That's my name, yes," Simon said forcefully, drawing Henderson's attention away from Kaylee and back to himself. "And you are?"

"Just an old friend," Henderson shrugged.

"With a hover boat," Simon supplied.

"She told you about me?" Henderson said with a tom-cat's smile.

"Actually, yes," Simon said coldly. "We met, if you'll remember, sort of."

"Yeah, you came ta fetch her from the shed the other day."

"That's right."

The tension between the men was all but crackling. Kaylee cleared her throat. "Henderson, why don't you just go on in and get your ma?"

"It ain't an emergency," the man said. "I can mind my own business."

"Really?" Simon asked pointedly.

"What are you saying?" Henderson demanded.

"Boys, don't," Kaylee said firmly.

"Why don't you keep out of this, Kay?" Henderson barked at her.

"Don't talk to her like that," Simon said, rising his voice to match Henderson's.

Henderson laughed, "I've said things to this girl you ain't never gonna say ta her."

"Stop," Simon warned. "Now."

"You wanna know why she likes that hover boat so much?"

"Stop," Kaylee pleaded.

"Turn and leave," Simon said, his fist balling.

"Or what?" Henderson said, "you gonna do this?"

With a quick movement, Henderson delivered a gut punch that drove Simon to his knees. For a second, the world in font of the doctor swam, and air refused to enter his lungs. It was almost a blessing that he hadn't really eaten anything for three days.

"Simon!" Kaylee screeched, falling to her knees as well. He felt a supporting hand on his back and another brush his cheek. "You all right?" she asked worriedly.

"Fine," he said softly, between clenched teeth. 

"Simon," Kaylee said again. Her voice sounded a little scared. He didn't really care. He'd taken a break from caring, at least he'd meant to. Taken a break from being reasonable, from being civilized, from being kind and understanding. He had tried to be all those things for the past few days and all that had happened was hurt upon grief upon pain had been piled on him. This one punch was too much. He wasn't going to stand it, not for another second.

"Apologize," he said, forcing himself to stand without Kaylee's aid, despite his stomach's protest.

"To you?" Henderson laughed.

"To Kaylee," Simon said.

"Why?"

"You were being disrespectful."

"I respect her just fine. I give her all the respect a girl like –" He didn't get to finish the sentence. Simon punched him in the mouth with as much force as he had, throwing not just his arm but also his shoulder and his whole body into it so that he had to stager forward to keep his balance. 

Henderson fell down and, for second, the world seemed to stand still. All of Simon's rationality and civility flooded back into him and he forgot any anger he had. "Ow," was all he said, and even that was half hearted and distracted.

"Simon, are you okay?" Kaylee asked, reaching out to him, totally ignoring Henderson out cold on the ground. "That was," she chuckled. "You were amazing." 

She reached out and touched him. Simon took a gaspy breath and staggered back, away from her. The world seemed to be spinning too quickly beneath his feet, spiraling out of orbit and careening towards its sun. Kaylee looked out of focus, blurred, her concerned voice seemed to echo in his head until it was barely understandable.

"Kaylee, I . . ." He started, stepping further back, further away. "I didn't . . . and I . . . I have . . . to . . . but I'm . . . I'm sorry."

"Simon?" she said, stepping closer, reaching out towards him. 

Simon's gaze shifted to the unconscious body. He was certainly going to fall off of this swiftly tilting world. They all were. He shook his head, "No."

"Maybe I should go get the Cap'n," Kaylee offered. "Or Dr. Michels, or . . . or River . . ."

"No," Simon said, more firmly. "I've gotta go."

"Go where?" Kaylee asked. She was beginning to be frightened.

"I'm not running away," Simon said. "I'll come back but I can't . . . not now."

His chest was heaving; he couldn't seem to get enough oxygen in his lungs. He was crying and he didn't know quite why or how to stop.

"'Kay," Kaylee said, nodding. "Don't go far."

Simon nodded back and then turned and stared walking, very quickly away. Kaylee was plagued by the fear that it would be the last time she'd see him. That he'd go back to his kind godfather or get snatched by someone else who'd seen his warrant and put two and two together or just get really, really lost. "Oh God," she muttered in a heartfelt, if not formal, prayer. "Let him be okay."

The body at her feet groaned.

"I wasn't talkin' 'bout you," she said. Not quite cruel enough to kick a man when he's down, which is not to say the idea didn't cross her mind, she sighed and turned and walked into the warm house to fetch Mrs. Ringwood and Dr. Michels for Henderson.

* * *

There was a great show of Inara leaving. She was very kind to Genie, but cold to the governor and everyone saw him transfer funds into her account for her trip and her shuttle and repeatedly apologize. She was taken by a guard in the governor's personal transport straight to the train station where she was going to travel in a first class private car paid for by the governor with his most profound apologies.

The trip was uneventful, dull even, which meant that Inara had more than enough time to think about all that had just happened. 

She found her thoughts drifting to her own family, back on Sihnon. About the way her father beamed when she graduated from the Companion Academy. About the way her mother stared at her when she said she was shipping off with _Serenity_. About her oldest sister, Rena's, constant waves about her husband and her children and her home. And the second oldest sister, Adeline's, constant waves about her insecurities and her worrying and how desperately she longed to have Inara back. 

When 'Sweet Well station, next stop' was announced, Inara's heart soared. She couldn't wait to get off the train and away from all the thoughts that made her somehow, at the same time, homesick and glad that she'd left her home only a year ago. Her family had in no way been her reason for leaving, but neither had they been any incentive to stay.

Without luggage of any kind, Inara felt somewhat naked exiting the train. She felt that she should have had at least a handbag of some sort, but all that had been in her shuttle when it was 'stolen'. Comworth, who was over-generous, had given her a few credit bills for the trip. But her long tan skirt with ruffles from the knee to the hem didn't have pockets, as it would have ruined its simple sheer lines. Neither did her low cut, midnight-blue silk shirt with dark red and green dragons embroidered down the sleeves. So she'd stuffed the bills in her bra clip (a must have for every companion) and she didn't like the idea of pulling it out at the station so she could get a cabby to take her to the Frye's house. Come to think of it, she didn't know how to get to the Frye's house, or their address, or even if Sweet Well was a large enough town to have cabbies.

When she stepped onto the platform of the station, her forehead was creased with worry and her lovely lips were pressed tight as she contemplated what she was going to do next. She hadn't taken three steps and that question was answered.

"Mal!" she said, almost joyously, when she saw the space pirate leaning against the far wall of the station, watching her with a coy smile.

"Good day, Miss," he said, stepping forward and bowing just a little. "What's a fancy lady like you doing in a backwater town like this?"

"Don't let Kaylee hear you call her home backwater," Inara said, gladly accepting the arm he offered her. 

"Nah," he said with a shrug. "She'd be the first to admit it was."

"How did you know I was coming?" 

"Governor sent _Serenity_ a wave, as well as a couple thousand credits to 'cover expenses' as he said." 

"Mal," Inara gasped. "He paid me for the shuttle already. You knew that."

"I know," Mal nodded.

"And you still accepted it?"

"What kind a man you take me for?" Mal asked, his voice high pitched and insulted. "A dishonest thief?"

"Oh," Inara spat. "Where would I get that idea?" 

"Eventually, River'll need medicine," Mal insisted passionately. "What we got ain't gonna last forever, and that stuff ain't cheep. And, if or when the time comes for us to part, well, then, I'll have something to give them so that making their own way will be a little easier." Mal explained as they walked out of the station and onto Sweet Well's gray streets. He turned and looked candidly at Inara, "I ain't gonna use that money for wining and dining, or even fueling and maintenance, that's for damn sure. That money's meant for those kids and it's good that they'll have it. I hope that meets with your approval."

"I'm sorry," Inara said. "This whole thing, it just makes me feel rotten inside. I know there is . . . was . . ." she sighed. "Let's talk about something else."

"Fine," Mal clipped. "Something else."

There was a moment of silence.

"Hope you don't mind walkin'," he said abruptly. "The house's only about quarter mile away."

"Oh," Inara said, shivers running through her body. "I wish I'd had the presence of mind to grab a coat before you stole my shuttle."

"Cold?" he asked. "Here." He detangled himself from her so he could slip off his brown Calvary duster and placed it on her shoulders. "Better?"

"Now won't you be cold?" Inara asked, grabbing the lapels of the jacket with either hand and pulling it more tightly around her.

"No, 'cause, you see, women get cold."

"And what do men get?"

He thought for a moment before deciding. "Ruggedly uncomfortable."

"Well, aren't you ruggedly uncomfortable?"

"A little," he admitted. "But it's fine."

"Mal," Inara laughed. "As much as I appreciate the jacket, you didn't have to give it to me. I would have made it the whole quarter mile just fine without."

"You're clearly not understanding the concept," Mal said. "You see, if you were to be cold and I had a jacket, I would be a cad for not havin' given it to you, but seeing as how I did I ain't only a gentleman but . . ."

"But also what?" Inara asked, greatly enjoying the banter.

"Damn manly."

She laughed and rehooked her arm in his. "Oh, Captain," she said with an exaggerated womanly voice. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come to fetch me. Surely wasted away."

It was his turn to laugh. "Glad to be of service, ma'am."

* * *

It was well past dark out. As Kaylee tried to look out the kitchen window, seeing more of her reflection than the outside. She couldn't help but worry that the rain was going to turn into slush and the slush into snow. It wasn't that Kaylee didn't like snow, she would have loved it, but Simon hadn't come back yet, and he hadn't taken a coat, and he hadn't eaten all day, and Kaylee couldn't seem to pull her thoughts away from him.

There hadn't been a proper dinner that night; they had been snacking and munching and otherwise eating through Zoë's shower, so no one was hungry. Had there been a sit-down dinner Kaylee would have had an excuse to brave the cold and the wet to seek Simon out and drag him back into the warm dry house, but as it was she couldn't think of a possible justification, beyond her own worries, to do so, especially considering the doctor probably didn't want to be found. 

Kaylee sighed heavily and thought of turning around and trying to join into the party, but she just couldn't pull herself a way from the window.

"Well, _mei mei_" Inara's said, her voice was sweet and smooth, just like honey, as she came up behind the young mechanic, and her soft hand touched her shoulder affectionately. "What are we dreaming about?"

"Not dreaming," Kaylee said, managing to pry her eyes away from the gray view in front of her to look at her friend. 

"You can't help Simon by worrying over him," Inara said with a wise smile.

"Oh," Kaylee said, her shoulders sagging slightly. "Am I really that obvious?"

"Quite transparent," Inara said. "But don't worry; it's endearing."

"He's all alone out there," Kaylee said. "Feelin' miserable and cold."

"He knows how to come in," Inara reminded her. "He knows he can do it any time."

"No, he can't!" River's clear voice said as she bounded down the stairs. She'd been stole away with Jack for nearly two hours, and had finally been sought out by Jack's mother and Captain Reynolds, who both knew enough to know that, after two hours, any efforts for propriety they would be making would most likely be too little to late. Still, too little was better than nothing. 

Kaylee and Inara both heard River's exclamation, but ignored it, assuming her comments were not part of their conversation.

"But what if he got lost, or slipped and got hurt, or ran into another bully like Henderson, or another one a the governor's guards."

"He didn't, he didn't, he didn't, he didn't," River said, hurrying over to their conversation, leaving Mal, Jack and his mother, at the foot of the stairs.

"River?" Inara said, smiling at the girl. "I'm glad to see you."

"If you look straight at a supernova you'll go blind," River quickly informed the companion before turning to Kaylee. "He's forgetting. You should remind him."

"River," Kaylee said, shaking her head. "What are you talking about?"

"Simon," River sighed, all but rolling her eyes at her friend's slowness. "You have to remind him."

"Remind him of what?" Inara asked, having finally recovered from River's odd greeting.

"Of him," River said. It was always hard to tell, but Inara was fairly sure she saw sorrow and worry in the girl's brown eyes. "It's hard to remember, sometimes. I know I forget, but he always reminds me."

"You think Simon is forgetting who he is?" Kaylee asked, confused. It was one thing for River, whose brain had been sliced and diced, to suffer temporary bouts of insanity. But Simon was sane almost to a fault. Kaylee couldn't imagine him forgetting his identity any more than she could imagine him forgetting how to walk or speak.

"I know he is," River said, very seriously. "I'd go, but I don't want him thinking he's me."

"I doubt very much Simon would think he's you," Inara told River with the somewhat superior tone of experience.

"He does all the time," River insisted. "When he thinks he's forgetting he thinks of me." Her pretty brow furrowed, "I don't think it's healthy."

Neither Kaylee nor Inara had any idea how to respond to River's diagnoses.

"But," Kaylee finally managed after a moment. "If Simon confuses himself for," she glanced at Inara --who was just as baffled buy the conversation in general as Kaylee was and had nothing to offer-- "For, well, for you, than won't he do the same with me?"

River laughed, just like an adult would laugh at a child's silly question, and shook her head, "No," she said. "He knows exactly what he wants to be when you're around."

"That doesn't mean he knows who he is," Inara observed.

River sighed and tilted her head, like a mother explaining something simple to children who weren't listening, "If horse mates with a donkey what do you get?"

Inara and Kaylee looked at each other uncertainly for a moment. Finally, the companion ventured, "A mule?"

"Exactly!" River said, beaming. Then turning abruptly, she skipped across the room, back towards Jack, leaving Kaylee and Inara to wonder at her comments.

"Maybe I should go look for him," Kaylee said once River was truly gone. Her eyes drifted back to the gray window. "I mean, it's gettin' dark and he might not know his way."

Inara smiled at her wisely, "Go on," she said. "You know you'll want to until you do."

Kaylee smiled back as she stepped away from the window. "Don't wait up."

To be continued . . . 


	24. Chapter 23

Chapter 23: In which no one is in bed, like they're supposed to be 

It occurred to Simon, as if by divine revelation, that it was dark out. It also occurred to him that he didn't care. Cold and wet and now dark, none of it mattered.  He'd felt earlier that the planet was tilting towards the sun, being sucked in.  But now that he was alone, and had been alone for a good long while, he felt as if the planet was being repelled away from the sun.  Pushed so far away that light wasn't going to reach the small world ever again.  His small world would be forever dark.  

He was sitting on the bank of the small stream.  About two dozen yards south, to his right, was the spot where River had cut herself.  He didn't turn his head to his right.  Another fifty yards north was the small path that led up to the Frye backyard and the house.  There was light in that house, and warmth, and dryness.  He didn't turn his head to the left.  

He just stared ahead, looking into the darkness of the forest.  A part of him wanted to get lost in it, a part of him was afraid to, but most of him was to cold and stiff and morose to move.

It wasn't that he was lost in his thoughts, because he wasn't thinking anything.  He was just so tired, and he just hurt so much. He was a doctor, his stock and trade was finding pain and then finding a way to eliminate it.  But this pain was elusive; it hurt more at every prodding.  The doctor was almost tempted to fish in the stream and find a nice sharp rock and create a wound he could heal, just to reassure himself that such things existed.

But it was getting darker, and he could no longer really see the stream.

                "Simon!"

                For a very brief moment the boy's imagination produced the image of a seductive dryad, a siren, with a sharp rock in her cold and slender hand calling his name.  Then he realized it was Kaylee.  

"Simon!"

                Suddenly, he needed to see her.  The cold dark wetness that had been so comforting had become terrifying.  He was in a strange wood where the streams seduced you and rocks attacked you.  "Kaylee," he said.  His voice was soft and scratchy from lack of use.  He doubted she heard him.

                "Simon!" the girl called again, she was getting closer.  "Ya out here?"

                "Kaylee!" he tried again, with better results.  He tried to stand but before he was truly up, his muscles twisted themselves into cramps and he fell back onto the cold ground with a sharp yelp of pain. 

                "Simon!" Kaylee said again, this time less becoming and more worried.  Soon he was blinded in the intolerably bright beam of a flashlight and he could hear her light step running through the undergrowth.  Before his eyes had adjusted to the light, he felt her hand on his shoulder and the sound of her breathing close to his ear.  "Oh, Simon," she said, sniffling a little.  "You ok?  You ain't hurt or nothin' are ya?"

                "I'm fine, Kaylee," he said, reaching out and pushing the flashlight down so it wasn't pointed directly at him.  "I just . . ."

                "Ya fell," Kaylee said quickly.  Her voice was almost panicked.  "I saw.  Can you stand?"

                "I've been sitting here too long," Simon explained. "My leg got a cramp."

                "I can go get the Captain," Kalyee said, moving to stand up and run to the house.  "Or Jayne, they could –"

                "Kaylee," Simon said quickly, reaching out and grabbing her arm.  "No, I'll be fine.  Just, could you help me?"

                "Sure," the girl said, nodding.  "What you want me to do?"

                "Let me put my arm over your shoulder," Simon said, reaching out and maneuvering her so she was kneeling down right next to him.  "Now, I'm going to try to stand and you stand with me.  I'll probably lean on you, so be sure to lift yourself up with your legs, not your back.  I don't want you to hurt yourself."

                "'Kay," Kaylee said, switching the flashlight to her left hand so she could wrap her right hand around Simon's waist as he put his left arm over her shoulder.  "Just tell me when you're ready."

                "All right," Simon said, taking a deep breath.  "Now."

                Kaylee stood up and more or less pulled Simon with her.  "You okay?" she asked, once she felt him depending more on his own strength to stand and leaning on her a little less. 

                "Fine," he said, although his voice was thin and tense.  "Now, if we could just walk a little."

                "We should get you someplace warm," Kaylee said wisely.  "It's sitting out here in the cold that's done it."

                "I know," Simon said, struggling to keep his feet under him as both legs screamed in pain. "But if I keep walking they'll go away."

                "Really?"  Kaylee asked lightly, as if they were sitting in _Serenity's common room shooting the breeze and not trudging through the forest in the rain.  Simon marveled at how she made hard things feel easy.  _

                "'Cause, ya see," she continued.  "My uncle Markie said that the only way ta get rid of a cramp was ta sleep with your shoes under the bed, but his wife Leslie she swears up and down that pickle juice is the only thing ta use."

                "Pickle juice?"  Simon asked.

                "Um-hum," Kaylee nodded.

                "Does she rub it on the inflamed area or drink it?"

                "Either way it's gross," Kaylee said.  "I never tried neither."

                "I don't blame you." 

                The conversation ended there.  They walked for a while in silence before Kaylee shifted towards their left.  "We're here," she said.

                "Here?" Simon asked.

                "Just gotta climb this hill," Kaylee said, pointing her flashlight to a rise in the undergrowth which, Simon supposed, must have looked like a path to her.  "Then we're home."

                "Home," he said.  

All the foreboding he felt about being in a warm place where people were happy and laughing must have, somehow, worked its way into his voice because Kaylee turned and looked at him compassionately, and said, "You don't wanna go in, do you?" 

"I," he stuttered, surprised by her insight.  "I, ah . . . I don't . . . I certainly wouldn't . . ."

"Simon," Kaylee interrupted.  Her voice was serious and caring and pleading him to be honest.  "Why were you out here?  In the cold?"

                "I didn't want to be warm," he admitted, a little surprised at his answer.  "I don't think . . . I mean, I can't . . . I feel cold, no matter where I am.  I feel frozen."  He glanced down at her.  In the dimness, she looked even softer than usual and he couldn't see the irises in her eyes.  As he stared into them, words he'd had no intention of saying seemed to flow out of his mouth, he barely knew he was speaking and he wouldn't have been able to stop, even if he had.

                "When I left everything, left the first time, I didn't really, I didn't realize how it was . . . how permanent it was.  I knew, maybe, I can't . . . I'm not sure I'm remembering clearly.  But my last day of work, I didn't sit and think, 'this is the last chart I'll ever read' or 'this is the last time I'll talk to a patient' or 'this is the last time I'll close my locker.'  None of that  . . . I didn't have time, I-- I didn't know to think that way.

                "But today was the last time I'll ever see my parents.  It was the last time I'll ever see my godfather.  Any hopes I had far fetched and fantastic as they were, of going back . . . they were crushed.  Last time I didn't, I didn't really turn away from anything, I was . . . it was about River.  This time it wasn't.  I wasn't swept up in events that I didn't understand. I wasn't propelled by brotherly devotion. I wasn't ignorant or helpless.  I made a choice.  I chose this life over them.  I said goodbye, and I meant it."

                Kaylee blinked, breaking the spell a little, and looked down.  Simon took a shaky breath and turned away.  "I'm sorry," he said after a minute.  "I didn't mean to tell you all that."

                "No," Kaylee sniffled.  "No, it's ok."  She gasped for breath and reached up to wipe her eyes with the back of her right hand, sending the flashlight's beam wildly off into the treetops above them.

                "You're crying," Simon observed, a little surprised.  

                "It's sad," Kaylee defended.  She turned to look at him and forced a smile despite her tears.  "Can't help but cry a little."

                Simon smiled down at her. "You are incredibly sweet."

                Even in the darkness, he could see her blush.  There was something about this planet, he concluded, something that made her cheeks look rosier and her eyes brighter and her hair softer and her lips more inviting.  He'd always thought she was pretty but it seemed that every time he saw her she became prettier and prettier.  On Osiris, he was used to beautiful girls who would spend hours on their hair and makeup, and brilliant girls who demanded attention by being better and smarter, but he hadn't had much interactions with girls like Kaylee who were just pretty and smart.  Everything about her, not just the way she looked, but the way she talked and giggled, the words she used and the jokes she told and the way her eyes turned into slits when she laughed and the way she'd chew on her lower lip if she did something wrong, seemed different, seemed better.  The more Simon was with her, the more distasteful he found the overindulgences of the beautiful or brilliant women he was so used to.  They tried so hard to be something special when Kaylee was everything special without even trying.

Without thinking, Simon reached out and cupped her chin with his right hand.  Her fathomless eyes seemed to smile up at him through her tears.  He leaned forward and his rough, chapped lips brushed against her supple, delicate ones and he could taste her breath, heavy with the aroma of peach pie.

Simon pulled away, for a second, a motion that brought reality crashing down on him.  He was a cold person, a hard person, a gray and dreary person.  She was warm, soft, colorful and full of light and life.  He needed her to melt away all his frozen parts, to smooth out his sharp edges, to bring light and laughter into him.  She was everything he wasn't and he wanted her to seep into him and change him so that he could be everything he wasn't too.  He leaned forward again, and this time their lips met more unfalteringly, more passionately.  He felt like Kay in 'The Snow Queen'; his Greda had come and the splinter of glass perverting his vision was washed away and each kiss brought more warmth, more color, more life until he was thawed enough to be his own man.  

Simon closed his eyes, savoring ever second they touched. 

So when she pulled away, he was more then let down, he felt like he'd been dropped.  H looked down and turned away, not bothering to open his eyes.  "I'm . . . I didn't mean—"

                "Simon," Kaylee interrupted him, reaching over and pulling his face towards her.  He didn't resist and found himself once more staring into her enchanting eyes.  "It's all right," she assured him.  "Let's go someplace warmer and drier."

                "I'll follow you," he promised.

                She smiled at him, biting on her lower lip and scrunching her nose into an adorable accumulation of wrinkles.  Her hand slipped off from around his waist and found his hand.  As she started pulling him up the hill, into her yard, Simon didn't worry that she would force him into the bright house where the party was just beginning to die down, nor did he notice that the cramp in his leg was still screaming in pain.  All he cared to notice was the loving tugs she continued to give his hand and all he could think of was the lingering taste of peach pie in his mouth.

*   *   *

It was late, well past supper time, but supper had been missed on account of no one seeming the least inclined to eat.  Genie had disappeared, most likely into the solitary depths of her closet, leaving her grandfather feeling very much alone.  He sorely wanted to go into his office, lock the door, and lose his sorrows in a bottle of scotch, but he knew that wouldn't help matters any.  So instead he went, with squared shoulders and a set jaw, to the guest wing where Gabriel and Regan were packing, preparing to go back to Osiris.

"Come in," Gabriel barked after Comworth had knocked on the door.  He didn't sound like he wanted company.

Still, the governor pushed open the door and walked into the suite's sitting room.  Gabriel was slouched in an arm chair, staring into the crackling fire in the room's hearth, a decanter of brandy and a half empty glass in his hand.

"Where's Regan?" he asked from the door.

"Crying in the bathroom," Gabriel grunted.  "It's probably the only thing she'll do for the next month.  That's what she did when Simon left before."

"It's for the best, you know."  The governor said, walking over to the liquor cabinet and getting a brandy glass for himself.  "Of all the places they could be . . ."

"What happened?" Gabriel said.  He sounded dazed and only slightly drunk.

                "They found a safe place," Comworth said, easing himself down in a chair beside his old friend and helping himself to the deep red and highly alcoholic beverage.

                "We did everything right," Gabriel said.  "We loved them so much.  I . . . I only ever wanted them to be happy."

                "I know," Comworth said.

                "The Secretary of Education said it was the best school for a child like River, that she would blossom there."

                "I know."

                "Simon loved his work.  He--he really did."

                "I know."

                "We weren't bad parents," Gabriel said.  "If I had really thought for a minute that  . . ."

                "You were good parents," Comworth assured his friend.  "You loved your children."

                "Why didn't I believe Simon?" his father said.  "This could have been over.  We could have pulled her out of the school.  He could be a successful doctor, she could have . . ."

                "It's not you fault," Comworth said.

                "What kind of father assumes his son is crazy?" Gabriel said, turning away from the fire towards his friend for the first time.  He was ghostly pale and his eyes were red.

                "The kind that trusts his government," Comworth said.  "Until Dr. Westland showed us those scans, I didn't really believe the boy myself."

                "But you treated him a hell of a lot better than I," Gabriel said bitterly.  "My son, my only son, and the last memories he has of me are of me angry, distrustful, condemning."   

                "He knows you love him," Comworth said.  "If he didn't, do you think it would have pained him so much to leave?"

                "And River, damn it," Gabirel continued.  "I didn't love her enough to come for her.  I get hardly a word, nothing but official reports and I don't worry, don't wonder.  What kind of father am I?"

                "You were doing the best you could."

                "The best I could," Gabriel spat.  "The best I could do was send my daughter to get her brain cut on, and abandon my son so he had to give up everything just to save her.  That was my best.  With that kind of record I'm a shoe-in for father of the year."

                "Gabriel, stop blaming yourself," Comworth pleaded.  "You couldn't have known."

                "Simon knew," Gabriel said.  "He knew, he told me and I didn't listen."

                There was nothing Comworth could think to say to that, so he stayed silent.    

                "Damn it!" Gabriel spat, when the silence became too heavy.  "I wanted to give them everything.  They were, they are, so incredible.  I don't think they ever understood.  I mean, they knew they were smart.  But I'd bet not one doctor in the whole city was as dedicated to his patients as Simon.  He'd come home and that's all he'd talk about.  He was single-minded, relentless. Every procedure was done perfectly.  He said that these were peoples' lives he worked with, anything less than perfection was an insult to humanity."

                Comworth smiled, "That's from the speech he gave at medacad commencement."

                "He believed it.  How many doctors care about their patients like that, how many of them see their patients as humans?_ Gei ji ren zhi ren dao. "_

                "Simon was an amazing doctor," Comworth said with a sigh.

                "You know he volunteered to work the late shift because that's when people got the poorest care.  He . . . he liked the social prestige, he liked the money, but he didn't really care about it.  How many damn doctors can that be said of?"

                "Not many," Comworth admitted.

                "And River," Gabriel continued.  "How could anyone like her understand what she was?  There's no precedent for her, but she couldn't help but think she was normal.  Everyone thinks what they are is normal; everyone assumes that what they do is good and right and what any rational person would do.

                "I assumed I was a good parent. I assumed that my wonderful children were my reward for being such a wonderful parent."

                "That's not how it works," Comworth said levelly, although the brandy was starting to make him feel a little warm and less bereaved.  "Life sometimes . . ."

                "I don't have children anymore," Gabriel said.  "They left.  I drove them away.  That's my punishment."

                "You can't think that way, Gabriel," Comowrh said a little more insistently.  

                "I drove away Regan's children," Gabriel said, his voice wavering mournfully.  "She was such a good mother.  They adored her.  River would follow her around, mimic everything she did.  Simon was so dedicated to her; he would have done anything for her.  You know, when he was eight he planted a garden just so he could give her flowers."

                "I know."

                "It went horribly.  He didn't like getting dirty."

                Comworth laughed.  "I know."

                "God," Gabriel said.  He was taking heaving breaths as he tried not to cry.  "I loved them.  Maybe not well, maybe not enough, but, still, I loved them both so much.  As best as I could, as best as I knew how to."

                "I know that, Gabriel," Comworth said.  "Simon and River know that too."

                "How could they?" Gabriel sniffed.  "What evidence did I ever show?"

                "There were thousands of things, little things, you did for them as they were growing up," Comworth said.  "You let River stay up late so she could go to the ballet as a child, and when she grew older, you let her perform in it.  You gave Simon a real stethoscope on his seventh birthday when most fathers would have given toys.  They will always love you; you are their father."

                "But," Gabriel said, shaking his head.  "They left.  River said loving was coming.  Leaving must be hating."

                "You're drunk," Comworth said, not judgmentally.  "The only loving thing to do was to let them go.  I understand it hurts right now.  Damn it, it feels like someone's reached in your chest, garbed your heart and ripped it to shreds.  I know."

                "They weren't your children," Gabriel said, almost angrily.

                "I lost children," Comworth continued, his voice rising as he spoke.  "Need I remind you what happened to Genie's mother?  Or how about Meredith, my wife?  I know.  My happy family is dead. You should be glad yours isn't.  They may be gone, but they are alive."

                "That's true," Gabriel said, properly rebuked.  "You're absolutely right.  I should be glad.  But I miss them, I will miss them."

                "They will miss you," Comworth said.  "How could they not?  You're their father."

*   *   *

                Mal didn't know why he couldn't sleep.  His crew was safe and accounted for, his ship was fueled and ready to take off in the morning, his stomach was filled with good food and hardy liquor.  But he couldn't rest, there was an itch in the back of his mind, an unquestionable and nervous certainty that there was something out of place.  His mind skimmed over every detail of the day, every word with the people in the villa, every look and every movement.  But Mal knew what it felt like to be hunted, and the uneasiness in his mind wasn't a bit like that.  It was more a feeling that something was lost or hadn't been put away.

                Restless, and without the hope of getting rest until his mind was at ease, Mal tossed off his covers and started pulling on his boots.  

                Ten minutes later, he was wandering Sweet Well, heading more or less towards _Serenity.  He planed to check the ship from stem to stern and make sure everything was where it should be and he was considering going through Inara's shuttle too, looking for anything suspect, a bug, a tracer, anything.  He knew that wasn't what bothered him but doing something was a hell of a lot better than lying in bed and worrying._

                It was still cold out, but the rain had stopped and a full moon was casting a silvery light over the whole of the quiet town.  There was a time in his life when he would have stood for a moment and appreciated the chilled beauty of the scene, but that time was long past.  Now he was suspicious of the moon; its light created hundreds of shadows for enemies to hide in and offered him no aid as he walked down the street.  

                He didn't breathe any easier as he stepped out of the edge of town and onto the field were Serenity and a half a dozen other spaceships were docked.  The shadows were bigger, the light seemed brighter and regardless how safe Mal knew he was, he couldn't keep his mind from envisioning a half a dozen ambush scenarios and how he could, with luck and skill, get out of them.

                The closer he got to _Serenity_, the more assured Mal felt that he wasn't alone. When he reached the ramp he saw his feeling was well founded.  There was movement in the shadows that covered the hatch door and the sobs of a very young girl were clearly audible.  Relief washed over Mal like a flood.  He'd known something was wrong, as far as wrong things went, River being off her nut was one he thought he could pretty well handle.

                "Hey there, little bit," he called at the sniffling shadow.  "This ain't where you're supposed to be."

                "I know," she said, looking up at him through the shadows.  The only part of her truly visible was the whites of her eyes.  "The door is locked."

                "Your brother know you're here?"

                "He forgot.  Kaylee's helping him remember."

                "Huh," Mal grunted.  "He's with Kaylee?  Well, that explains it." Turning back to River he said,  "But that don't explain why you're out here."

"It's wrong to pick locks.  Bad things happen when you do wrong things."

                "Tell me you ain't here to punish yourself," Mal said, his sense of dread spiking.

                "I wanna go home," River muttered.  "To many people are whispering."

                Mal looked at her bewildered for a second, then he smiled kindly.  Reaching out to her, he said,  "Come on _shao__ nu, let's go back."_

                River whimpered softly and turned away.

"Come on," Mal urged, holding his hand out insistently. 

                Reluctantly, River reached out and took the Captain's hand.  Mal was surprised by how small and delicate it was, not that he had expected it to be large and rough, but the girl was so odd that Mal sometimes forgot that she was, in fact, a girl.  "You should be in bed," he said, pulling her to her feet and out of the shadows.  "It's late and tomorrow –"

                "I can sleep tomorrow," River said.  "Tomorrow I'll be home.  All the voices will be whispering but I'll be able to pretend I don't hear them.  But when it's quiet, I can't help but hear."

                "What you doin' up so late and out of bed?" Mal asked, gently leading the girl away from _Serenity and back towards the Frye house._

                "The moon doesn't whisper," River answered, leaning back as she walked so she could gaze at the bright white orb.  "She sings like silver bells at Christmas time."

                "You're not gonna make a dollop of sense tonight, are ya?"  Mal sighed.

                River shifted, looking from the moon to him, "I'm not a very good daughter," she said sadly.  "I'm sorry."

                "What?" Mal asked, he couldn't keep his voice from squeaking.

                "Kaylee is so good," River said, her voice filled with admiration.  "She can cook, and fix things and make people happy.  She makes everybody happy.  She's a good daughter."

                "I . . . I suppose," Mal said uncomfortably.  "I know her daddy loves her."

                "And Simon," River continued with the same hero-worshiping tone, "He's a good son.  He's so smart and brave.  And he's a doctor.  A doctor is always useful," she laughed. "Who wouldn't want a doctor?"

                "I'm sure your father . . ." Mal started weakly.

                "But I'm not like them," River continued.  "I don't know how to be good, how to be useful.  I don't know how to make you proud."

                "What?" Mal asked again.  "Me proud?"

                River nodded at him, her brown eyed seemed deeply sorrowful and her voice was barely above a whisper.  "But you still come, every time.  You're such a good father."

                "Father?!" Mal gasped.  "River, I ain't," he cleared his throat.  "I ain't your father."

                "I know," River said, bowing her head.  Her voice trembled, like she was about to cry. "But mine didn't come.  And he'll never come again.  And you always come, always."

                Mal had to admit that she had a valid argument.  "That may be true, fact is, it is true.  But 'cause I'm willing to come for you when you need me, that don't make me your father."

                "Doesn't it?" River asked with a somewhat superior tone, as if she knew the answer and it was Mal who was confused.

                "No," Mal insisted.  "It don't."

                "Oh," River said softly.  Then she nodded and bowed her head, dejected.

                Mal literally bit his tongue and a string of vile curses ran through his mind.  As if the girl's day hadn't been hard enough, he'd topped it off with more rejection.  "Look," he said after a moment.  "I ain't your father.  You only got one and it's not my place to take you away from him."

                "But you did," River pointed out. 

                "I did," Mal said, a little deflated. He took a deep breath and continued passionately. "Don't change the fact that he's your father.  Nothin' in the 'verse can change that, and you know it."

                River nodded dolefully.

                "But," Mal added, softening his voice.  "I am your captain. And that means I am gonna come for you, whenever you need me.  Understand?"

                River turned and looked at her captain.  Her lips were pressed together and looked almost white.  Her eyes were large kept darting from right to left and up and down, never truly focusing on him.  "But I don't do anything," River protested.  "I know I'm a problem. I know I'm dangerous and I don't know how not to be."

                "That don't concern me over much," Mal confessed.  "I know you try your best.  That's enough."

                "But I can't . . ." River began.

                "Look, _shao__ nu" Mal said, with more patience than he'd been able to accumulate for any human for a good many years.  "This ain't about you, what you can do and what you can't.  You don't got to earn your way onto the ship.  I made a decision that, maybe, had a little to do with your brother and his skills with a scalpel, but mostly it had to do with the fact that you two needed someone to look after you."_

                River nodded, smiling a little, like he was finally getting the point.  "We need a father."

                "No," Mal said, shaking his head.  "You got one a them already and, not to make you fell bad, but he didn't do all that much for you.  Not when it counted.  Another father ain't gonna help matters."

                "You won't be a father," River nodded, the concept finally sinking into her pretty little head.  "It's not your job."

                "I will be your captain," Mal promised her.  "I'll look after you, make sure your done right by and see that no harm comes to you.  That's part of a captain's job."

                River pressed her eyes shut as a bittersweet smile spread across her face.  "Thank you, Captain."

                Mal took a deep breath and let it out, relieved.  "Glad we got that settled."

                River nodded mutely.

                They walked a few more steps in silence.  Mal found the silence thick and oppressive.  He liked it when River chattered; it let him think of her as a normal girl, the sweet normal girl that she wanted to be.  He always tied to think of people they way they wanted to be thought of, for Mal it was a sort of watered down version of the golden rule.  It was why he stodgily ignored all Book's odd un-Shepherd like behaviors.  If the old man wanted to be thought of as a kindly preacher, so long as it did no one any harm, Mal didn't see the fault in keeping up the farce.  

"Ya all right?" he asked, breaching the silence.

                River turned and smiled at him sweetly.  

_"Ice cold fear retreats each time you speak_

_Still there is no true shelter from the war_

_Death will find me even in your keep_

_Usurp the grand protection, which you swore_

_Would light my way through darkness deep_

_And shatter screams of their false lore_

_Tormenting me awake and in my sleep_

_As they whisper to me what's in store._

_Impotent hero, can not conquer the vile_

_Yet content am I to sit with you and wait_

_For your heart is noble and your manner mild_

_Your arm is strong and your courage great_

_So like Hector's son, the guiltless child_

_I seek comfort, though I know my fate,"_

she told her captain in such an innocent and childish voice that it sounded almost like a nursery rhyme.

                "Well," Mal said uncertainty, he wasn't quite sure if that poem was a complement or an insult.  

                "I wouldn't want any other captain," River said, leaning over so her head was resting on his shoulder, even though they were still walking through the town, the Frye's house having just come into view.  

                Mal felt an odd constriction in his throat.  He didn't like it.  He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders, actions which didn't affect River's affectionate stance in the least.  "It's late," he said very officially.  "Long past time for you to be in bed."

                River whimpered a little and clung to him even tighter.  "Last night it killed me," she insisted with sheer innocent, terror.  "It bit in and chewed and spat me out.  Please, I can't sleep in the darkness again."

                "River," Mal said rationally.  "The darkness didn't eat you."

                "I know," River insisted.  "It spit me out."

                "If it killed you then how come you're alive now?"

                River didn't have an answer for that, her brow furrowed and her lips pouted as she tried to make her experiences fit with what she knew had to be reality.  It was always a difficult task and made her head ache.

                "You're sleepy," Mal said in response to her silence.  "I'll see you to bed."

                Mal led the way into and through the silent Frye house, River followed obediently.  Because he didn't know where else to take her, he opened the door to his room and ushered her in.  "Just plop down on the bed there," he instructed.  "Be sure to take your boots off."

                River nodded and did as she was told.  Once the large black combat boots had dropped to the floor and the girl had curled under the covers, Mal moved to the door.  

                "Stop," River whimpered.

                "What was that?" Mal asked, pausing as he reached for the doorknob.

                "It'll come again tonight," The girl said, peering up at him through the rumpled quilt he'd thrown over her.  "Please don't leave me alone."

                Mal turned and looked at her.  She was too old, he thought, to be afraid of the dark.  But her eyes were filled with real terror and her voice had an unmistakably desperate tone to it.  It might have been indulgent to turn around and give her her way, but it would have been cruel to leave her alone with whatever monsters were in her head.  Mal turned and pulled a well-worn wooden chair out of the corner and up to the bed.  "I'll sit here 'till you're asleep."

                "You're a good captain," River said with a yawn.

                Mal smiled down at her.  "Shut your eyes, _shao__ yang nu," he told her.  "I'm right here.  Ain't nothin' ta fear."_

To be continued . . .


	25. Chapter 24

Author's Note: I'm sorry this took so long to get up. I was waiting for a beta read which I finally had to give up on. If I ever do get the beta I'll post corrections for all of you who can't stand to read text with misspelled words and grammatical foux-pas. 

Chapter 24: Which starts naughty and ends nice

"_Ting ju_," Kaylee muttered.

"What?" Simon gasped as he jerked back obediently.

"We need to stop," Kaylee said, rolling of the good doctor, leaving them both more than a little cold. 

"Ah," Simon said after a moment. He was trying not to sound as frustrated as he was, Kaylee figured, which was why his voice was trembling like it was. It was a sort of tremble Kaylee recognized very well, and usually she brought it about by a fairly sadistic desire to make her lover squirm. But this time her motives were somewhat more noble, so instead of feeling a sort of superior satisfaction all she felt was sorry for poor Simon and a little frustrated herself. 

"Did I . .. . ?" Simon stuttered. "I mean, I didn't . . ."

"Didn't do nothin' wrong," Kaylee said, trying just like Simon to make her voice sound light and normal. "But if we don't stop now, we ain't gonna stop."

"Do you want to stop?"

"No."

"Oh, then . . . then I'm confused."

"Just," Kaylee said, swallowing hard and trying to think of the right words to explain her feelings to the boy beside her and convince him they were doing the right thing. This task seemed particularly hard considering Kaylee hadn't really convinced herself. She longed to roll over, back on top of Simon and let him wrap his arms around her, all gentle and protective, and his heart beating under her. But this was a time for self-control. "I been thinkin', 'bout what you said back at the picnic."

"Kaylee, what I said . . ."

"And I see what you mean," the girl continued quickly before Simon could talk her out of agreeing with him. "With other boys it . . . well, you're special, Simon, ya mean a lot ta me and I kinda want .. . . if we did this I'd want it ta mean something,' like you said. I'd want it to be somethin' special not just another roll in the hay."

Simon laughed, short and clipped but full of actual humor; it made Kaylee smile. He reached out and started picking little bits of tawny straw out of her hair. "You know," he said, the frustration easing out of his voice as amusement took its place. "I always assumed the term 'roll in the hay' was a euphemism."

"Well," Kaylee said, "Ya learn somethin' new every day."

They were in her father's barn, tucked away in the hayloft. It was a place Kaylee knew well. Growing up, her older siblings would always be up there, having hay fights or building forts or, on occasion, rolling in the hay themselves. She hadn't been allowed up there until she was twelve, and considered generally smart enough and coordinated enough not to fall off. She had fallen off the loft, of course, when she was 14 in the middle of a ruckus hay fight, but thankfully she'd fallen into the manure pile and the worse that had come of it was a little teasing and a long bath.

The hayloft had always been a place of mystery and excitement for Kaylee. The first time she'd climbed up the ladder, she'd gotten a huge thrill, and she'd felt a similar, albeit smaller, thrill every successive ascension. Still, she'd never taken a boy up there; she didn't want to ruin the lofts playful, exciting atmosphere with tainted memories of some guy who'd turned into a jerk. Besides, there were dozens of places just as suited, if not more so, for little trysts all around town. 

But Simon was special, Kaylee'd thought, as she led him out of the rain and into the barn. He was different from any boy she'd ever meet before. When he looked at her, she buzzed with curiosity, dying to know what was going on behind his blue-gray eyes. When he said her name, it sounded new and fresh, beautiful and elegant. When he touched her, her whole body felt warm. When he smiled at her, nothing else seemed to matter. He could make her feel like a woman and like a little girl at the same time, she didn't understand it, but she loved it.

Simon, in the past few days, had suffered a bombardment of horrible things. Kaylee wasn't sure exactly what form those things took, but she knew Simon well enough to know that he tried to bury his sorrows and press on with tenacious good humor. The fact that he'd allowed himself to wander off and sulk told her that whatever had happened in that villa was beyond the pale as far as the boy's emotions were concerned. She couldn't make it better; she knew that. She couldn't make the fact that he'd left his mother and father, probably forever, go away. She couldn't give back what he'd lost and she couldn't fill that emptiness that he felt. But she could distract him, maybe let him know that someone, at least, loved him. And part of that, Kaylee reasoned, was not going all the way, keeping their relationship, as a whole, separate from every other relationship she'd ever had, keeping it special.

"Are you cold?" Simon asked, his hand had drifted from her hair to the nape of her neck and his thumb was running up and down her jaw. 

"A little," she admitted. "You?"

"A little," he admitted. 

Kaylee smiled, she could feel her cheeks reddening. "Well," she told him. "Don't suppose if I came any closer you'd jump me."

"Oh," Simon chuckled, looking innocently heavenward. "I would never. Not with you."

"Dr. Tam,' Kaylee laughed. "Did you just joke?"

Simon nodded, rustling the hay as he moved his head. 

Kaylee scooted a little closer, so that they were lying side by side, facing each other. She would have only have had to tilted her head upward slightly and they would have been kissing. But she wasn't going to do that. And, as Simon wrapped his arms around her, she reveled in the fact that he wasn't going to tilt his head down. It was such a comfortable feeling, to know that he wouldn't push, wouldn't try anything, and wouldn't ruin anything. He respected her, unlike Henderson and his ilk. He wouldn't have done this with just anyone, again unlike Henderson. He thought that this sort of fooling around was more than just fooling around, unlike Henderson. He thought of her as more than just a pretty girl, unlike Henderson. He though a host of wonderful things, unlike Henderson or anyone else from little Sweet Well. 

"I like this," She said, nuzzling a little closer to him. "This feels right."

"Yeah," he answered, she could feel his hand stroking her hopelessly hay-filled hair. "This is nice."

"You feel better?"

"Not .. . ." Simon said tentatively. "Not really."

"Oh," Kaylee said, sinking slightly away from him.

The clever doctor must have figured out he said something vastly wrong, because he quickly amended the statement. "Kaylee, I . . . what you do for me, all you do for me, don't think I don't . . . don't think it doesn't mean anything--that I don't appreciate it."

"I don't think that," Kaylee said, not really lying but not really being honest.

"Because I do," Simon said. "Every laugh, every smile, every touch . . . I value. I know what you're trying to do for me and . . . and even if you can't make me feel better, I can't tell you how much it means that you care enough to try."

"Still," Kaylee muttered dejectedly. "Ain't really helpin'."

"No," Simon said. "Don't . . . that's not what I'm trying to say."

Kaylee shifted, so she could look him in the eyes expectantly. "What are you trying to say?" she asked with a whisper.

"I'm .. . ." Simon started, he was breathing heavily and blinking furiously. She could tell that he was yearning to lean forward those three short inches and kiss her. She pressed her lips tightly together, as much to discourage him as remind herself that kissing at this point wouldn't solve any problems. "I'm trying to tell you that, when I'm with you, all my problems, and trauma and grief . . . everything that's dark in my life, you outshine."

Kaylee's tightly pursed lips melted into a smile as her eyes drifted down away from his and she could feel a hot blush spreading across her cheeks. 

"That smile just. . ." he said softly, his voice trailing off.

Kaylee looked back up at him with a coy twinkle in her eye. "Just what?"

Simon took a deep breath and focused his attention slightly to Kaylee's left, over her shoulder, into the general darkness of the barn. "Just," he said. "There was this girl . . ."

"A girl?" Kaylee asked. 

If Simon noticed how uneasy her voice was, he didn't let it bother him. He nodded and continued with his story. "She was in my class at medacade. She was smart enough, I guess, although, I think she graduated near the bottom of the class. I can't remember her name, Jessie, maybe, or Kelsey, anyways the point is, it was well known that she only went to school so she could meet and marry a doctor."

"_Fah biow_, " Kaylee laughed, a little relieved that this was not a story about a former lover.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "Although, to be fair she did accomplish her goal. I'm pretty sure she was married two weeks after graduation, I don't even think she had a residency."

"How interesting," Kaylee said.

Simon blinked and returned to the conversation, "I mention her because I remember our second year, the friday after finales second term, we all decided to go to the beach. We had a cookout with swimming and kites and a water balloon fight . . ."

"Sounds fun."

"It was," Simon said, less than convincingly. "But she was lying on the beach tanning."

"You threw a balloon at her, didn't you."

"It wasn't me," Simon said, earnestly. Then, slipping into a smile, added "I did laugh, though."

Kaylee giggled.

"She yelled at us, all of us. And we were sort of drunk so that just made us laugh harder."

"And I always thought doctors were so sober."

Simon laughed, "Not if they don't have to be."

"Is that the story?" Kaylee asked. "That you got yelled at by a _biao zi_?"

"No," Simon said, shaking his head and smiling. "No. The story is that someone, I'm not sure who, although I suppose it doesn't really matter . . . well, someone asked her why she never smiled and I hadn't noticed it until that day, but it was true. She was very beautiful, I mean, in the classical sense, but she never . . . never smiled."

"She tell you why not?"

Simon nodded, "She said she didn't want to get _yu way wen_"

"_Kai wan shiau_, " Kaylee laughed.

"No," Simon said, chuckling, but not really laughing. "Really, it's true."

"She didn't smile 'cause she didn't want crows feet round her eyes?"

"That's what she said," Simon nodded. "And I, after I heart that, she just, she never seemed pretty anymore. I always imagined her as this drab old lady who looked mean and aged too fast because she never smiled."

"Why you tellin' me this?"

"You always smile," Simon said with a warm voice. He shifted a little in the hay and moved his arm so his hand cupped her chin instead of playing with the end of her straw riddled hair. He stroked the corner of her left eye with his thumb and had a sort of dreamy look on his face. "When you're old, you'll have the most beautiful fish tails, and wrinkles around your smile."

"You like that?" Kaylee asked.

Simon smiled back at her. "I like you," he said simply. "And I can't imagine not liking what you're going to be."

"That's the prettiest thing anyone's ever told me," Kaylee giggled. She didn't want to giggle, she wanted to be sophisticated and composed she wanted to be like one of those ladies at the ball on Persephone, the kind of ladies she assumed he was used to, the kind of lady she assumed he'd want.

"You're always laughing," Simon said with admiration. 

"That ain't true," Kaylee said modestly. 

"It's true enough," Simon said. 

"Well," Kaylee said not quite philosophically. "It's nice to laugh and smile." She nestled herself a little closer to him, so that her ear was right next to his heart, and she heard its almost hypnotizing pitapation. "Wish you'd do it more."

"I try," Simon said with a slightly apologetic and completely defenseless tone. "But these last months . . . from the time I left Osiris until, well, until today I didn't . . . I couldn't see straight. I kept looking over my shoulder, at what had been." she felt him turn his head away from her so he could look at the darkness between them and the barn roof. "I wanted to go back."

"And now you don't?" Kaylee said, trying to make her voice sound more compassionate than hopeful.

"I won't lie and say there aren't thing's I'll always miss," Simon said. "But, when I look at you, I realize there are things I have on Serenity that I never could have had in the Core. I . . .. don't think I'm grateful, really, that River was . . . what I mean is I once told you that the hospital was my home."

"I remember."

"Compared to life on Serenity, the hospital seems, I don't know, flat."

"Flat?"

"I do miss working with patients," Simon admitted. "But, while a good doctors are not necessarily a dime a dozen, they could get a qualified replacement for me in a heartbeat." Kaylee couldn't help but smile as she heard a soft and steady wub-thud. 

"But I'm needed on Serenity," Simon continued, his voice was filled with a kind of wonder, as if all this was somehow a revelation to him. "I mean, even if I don't consider the fact that River needs me, among the crew I'm still irreplaceable. I've saved lives--no one else could have done that."

"Saved me," Kaylee interjected warmly.

"First but not least," Simon said leaning his head slightly forward so that he was talking more or less into her straw-matted hair. It wasn't really like he was kissing her, but considering the circumstances it was close enough. "I can't imagine," he continued distractedly. "I don't think I would have been able to survive these past few months without you."

Kaylee hadn't expected that, her voice caught in her throat. After what seemed like an awkwardly long time she was finally able to stutter, "What, wha'da'ya mean?"

"There were times," Simon said, hesitating only a little. "Short bouts of self-pity and depression. The whole 'verse seemd dark, bleak, black."

"It mostly is black," Kaylee told him. 

She felt more than heard him laugh. "Still," he said. "On those dark days, you brought color to my life."

"Color?" Kaylee asked, flattered.

"Yeah," he nodded. 

"Hum," Kaylee muttered "That's real sweet. Kinda like, did you ever see that old flick 'The Wizard of Oz'?" 

"No, but I read the book to River when she was seven."

"It's a book?" Kaylee said, a little surprised. 

"Yeah," Simon said. "Although, I'm not really sure why they call it children's literature. It has more blood and violence in it than Shan Yu."

"I don't think we're talkin' 'bout the same story," Kaylee said uncertainly. "The flick's about this sweet little farm girl what's always singing and she and her dog and her whole house gets swept up in a tornado and they sort of fall into this beautiful magical land called Oz."

"And they crush a woman as they land," Simon said. "It's the same story. I don't remember the singing though."

"Probably added it for the movie," Kaylee figured quickly. "Thinkin' on it, the color probably was too."

"The color?" Simon asked.

"Yeah," Kaylee said with some enthusiasm. "You know, the whole time she's home at her farm, the time before the tornado, her life is all black and white, like them really old flicks."

"Ok."

"But then the tornado comes and she's all twisted around and plop, her house gets dumped on the ground and she goes to open the door and just like that it's all in color. And not just regular color, like green trees or blue skies, but there were these gigantic flowers and shimmering bubbles and little people with purple hair."

"Munchkinland was blue," Simon said softly to himself, "the whole screen should have been in blue . . . or was it yellow."

"The road was yellow," Kaylee offered helpfully.

"Yeah," Simon said softly. "That's the same."

There was a soft pause. Simon broke the silence after a second with a soft laugh. "This is exactly what I mean. I never thought I'd find myself in a barn with the prettiest girl I've ever known talking about thoroughly disquieting books. But I . . . I can't name a place I'd rather be."

"I'm the prettiest girl you've ever known?" Kaylee asked, she had to fight to keep from giggling excitedly. 

"Without question," Simon said. His voice wasn't seductive or flirtatious or anything other than matter-of-fact. 

"And you ain't even drunk."

Simon laughed and closed his eyes. "I should stop talking," he told her. "I'm tired and emotionally unstable and it's only a matter of time before I say something stupid and you get mad at me and then I'll be pummeled by some lunatic who has a grudge against Jayne."

"Oh," Kaylee said with more than a little mirth in her voice. "I'm sorry."

"I know," Simon told her, once again moving his arm so he could wrap it around her. 

"Feel better?" she tried again, hopefully.

"Yeah," Simon sighed. "I think I do."

* * *

****

Thursday

When River woke up she was alone the crisp, clean light of a cool autumn morning was shining in through the window and warming patches of the bed she was laying on. She was disoriented at first, but no more than usual and eventually the memory of Captain Reynolds pulling of her boots came to mind. It was a reverse Cinderella, she though and laughed.

Yesterday was a day for crying. Today would be a day for laughing.

She sprang out of the bed and quickly buckled up her boots. She was going to Serenity today. She was going home. 

She bounded down the stairways with unusual grace, even for her. She felt like a bright red ball bouncing on bright green grass. Of course, grass wasn't nearly hard enough or smooth enough for a ball to bounce on properly. But today was going to be such a good day that physics could be ignored. Physics would catch up to her eventually, they always did. Still, it was worth it.

There were pancakes in the kitchen. River could smell them. Pancakes with butter and honey and strawberries. Kaylee's favorite breakfast for Kaylee's last day on the planet. 

River reached the doorway to the kitchen, the door that was letting heavenly smells waft through the large house. She leaned against the frame, hesitating just a little. She had never been an overly shy girl, but without someone to lead her, the anxiety she felt about entering a room uninvited spread across her horizon like dark storm clouds. She wasn't going to let the clouds rain on her green grass and red ball, but they did seem to have an odd effect on how high she bounced.

"Hey there, River," Captain Reynold's merry voice said as he entered the kitchen from the back door on the other side. He was carrying a heavy looking tin pail full of fresh Milk and Al Frye was right behind him, holding the door open.

"River," Inara said. The companion had been sitting at the kitchen table, slicing strawberries. She leaned over and smiled prettily at the young girl. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Oh, River, sweetie," Nora said, stepping momentarily away from the griddle where she was flipping pancakes so she could look at River, still stuck shyly at the door. "Come on in. I was just thinking how nice it would be ta have someone here who could whip up some cream. Al, you come do this while I set River up."

The sun broke through her dark clouds and River beamed as she walked into kitchen. Mal had set the pail down on the table and moved so he could sit next to Inara and try and snatch bits of strawberry from her pile, a very dangerous endeavor considering she had a sharp knife in her hand. Al assumed a place at the stovetop, taking the spatula from his wife as she opened a draw and pulled out a large deep wooden spoon and a shiny mettle wisp. "River, dear, take these," she said, handing the utensils to the girl.

River obeyed, feeling sheepish and excited. She could feel Inara and the Captain looking at her, even as they played their tug of war with the strawberries and the knife. "Ya ever made wiped cream before?" Nora asked as she reached up to pull a pretty blue-willow mixing bole off of a high shelf. 

River shook her head

"Well," Nora said, setting the bole down right next to the bucket of milk. "It's easy as can be. What ya gotta do is ladle this thick stuff on the top (that's the cream, dear) out of this bucket and into this bowl. That's what the ladle's for. Then ya gotta whip it up with this whisk here, but not too much 'cause we don't want it turning into butter. When it's just about ready we'll add a snip of sugar and it'll be perfect for on top of these strawberries. Think you can do that?"

River nodded and very carefully got to work. It was by no means an all-consuming job, especially for someone who could figure square roots while performing fouettés. Still, River threw herself into the work. She hadn't had whipped cream for over three years. Her mind started filling itself with sweet confectionery thoughts as she very carefully tried to whip the white liquid into the perfect consistency of fluffy goodness. Her red ball turned into a maraschino cherry. Her green grass turned into sweet coconut shavings. The blue sky became icing, so sweet and sugary that her teeth hurt thinking about it and the clouds were made up of the very whipped cream she was making.

By the time pancakes were finished, the strawberries cut, the cream whipped, the honey jar opened and table set, Mal, miraculously, still had all his fingers, and Simon and Kaylee had yet to show themselves. Everybody knew that Kaylee had gone out late last night for Simon and nobody had seen them since. There were two very likely explanations for why that would be. The first of those explanations was that the young man and young woman had found a secluded spot to do what young men and young women do when they are in secluded spots. None at the table, with the exception of Inara, actually hoped this was the case, but considering the second of the explanations, it was the far superior.

It was, of course, possible that Simon and Kaylee had fallen into some horrible disaster. They could be hurt, kidnapped, tortured, and quite possibly even dying. However, Mal was fairly sure that, if such was the case, he'd have an uneasy feeling, or at least, River would be panicking. Her relative calmness and clear good mood predisposed him to believe the first explanation was the correct one, and the rest of the company was willing to trust him and follow his lead. If the kids didn't show their faces by the time breakfast was over, well, then it might be prudent to start to worry. 

River was very aware of all these thoughts hanging in the air around her. They made her smile. She could feel Simon's overall contentment in the air too, so she wasn't worried. She could also feel Kaylee's excitement. River knew life was good, all cherries and whipped cream, so she was the only one who didn't react with relief tempered with condemnation as the two young people came into the kitchen door. She just grinned at them. 

"Hey," Kaylee said, standing on her tiptoes, reaching up and pulling a piece of straw out of his dark hair. "Ya missed one."

Simon's only response was running his hands through his disheveled hair, checking for any more stray bits. Kaylee's hair was pulled back in a loose, hay-filled, ponytail which Simon was clearly too intimidated to pick at. He didn't want to pull her hair. This puzzled River because her brother had never shown any hesitation to pulling her hair when it suited his purposes. 

"Where have you two been?" Mal asked, glaring at Simon. It delighted him to see the doctor squirm. It was a vice Mal wasn't exactly proud of, but he wasn't nearly ashamed enough to stop. River giggled too, at her brother's discomfort. He was too much a gentleman for his own good.

"Oh," Kaylee said, craftily avoiding the question. "Pancakes!"

"Special for you, sweetie," Nora said looking at her daughter with an odd combination of affection and disapproval. "Ya almost missed them."

"Glad I didn't," Kaylee said, sitting down in the one of the two empty places. Simon quickly and silently occupied the other. He didn't look up at Mal or either of the Fryes and his cheeks were burning. It took all of River's decorum to keep her giggles from turning into out and out hysterics. 

"Doctor," Al said, practically daring Simon to look at him. "Why don't you say grace?"

Simon finally looked up at Kaylee's father, fear clearly visible in his eyes. "Grace?" he asked hoarsely, swallowing. "Where's . . . where is Shepherd Book?"

"He, Jayne, Wash and Zoë are all havin' breakfast with the folks they stayed with," Mal explained quickly. "You and River were supposed to be over with Hubert."

"Oh," Simon said, distraught over having yet another thing to be sorry for. "I didn't realize. If we're imposing . . ."

"Stop it," Nora said, looking ruefully at the captain. She turned to Simon and smiled sweetly. "The more the merrier. I was tickled pink when Captain Reynolds here told me River and you'd be havin' breakfast with us."

"River," Simon said, truly noticing her for the first time. "What are you . . .?"

"If you don't ask I won't tell," River told her brother coyly. 

"What won't you tell?" Simon asked. He wasn't sure wither he wanted an answer or not.

"Hey," Mal said just loud enough to get everyone's attention. "I don't much care for the prayin' but if we gotta do it 'fore we eat I'd like to get it along."

"I'll pray," Kaylee said, sending Simon a playfully scolding glare. She folded her hands and bowed her head and looked saintly, all sweetness and light. 

"Our Father in Heaven," She said softly a smile in her voice. "We thank you for all you've given us. For friends and family and good food. Watch over us today and every other. Amen."

To be continued . . .

* * *


	26. Chapter 25

Dear reader,

I just want you to know my beta is still being all lazy and I haven't gotten the corrections yet, so, again, the grammar and the spelling will be sub-par . . . even for me.  

Chapter 25:  In which the adventure truly ends

The rain had passed over Sweet Well, the sun was shinning and the air was crisp and clear, but the coldness had stayed. River watched as _Serenity's crew loaded the ship with jars of fruit-preserves, baby supplies, and a load of spare parts from Kaylee's father's shop.  River, because she was the youngest and because she was rarely trusted with anything, was not allowed to help.  Zoë, too, was ordered by Mal to sand and watch or, as he diplomatically put it, supervise.  _

                "You want it to be over," River told her softly and abruptly.  

                "What?" Zoë asked.  The question seemed curl itself up into wisps of smoke, as her breath was visible in the cold.  

River watched the white cloud with some interest and only answered when the little cloud had totally dispersed.  For some odd reason, the girls breath didn't make little puffs of steam.  "The excitement isn't enough," her voice sounded sad.  "At first you thought you could, but it's not who you are, or who you want to be."

Realization flickered across Zoë's eyes.  It was quickly followed by fear and shame.  "You talkin' about the baby," the firstmate told River as much as asked her.

                The young girl looked at Zoë curiously, as if the woman's deduction was totally illogical, and shook her head.  "I'm talking about the mother."

                Zoë wasn't sure how to respond to that.  She opened her mouth with full faith that something would come out of it but, as fate would have it, no response was necessary. At that moment Jack, with his family in tow, came running across the yard.   

                "River!" the young boy yelled with innocent, unabated, teenaged passion.  

                River pivoted quickly and, although Zoë couldn't see it, she knew the girl's face lit up like a pulsar.  "Jack," she said quickly, with a laugh, and then started running towards the boy.  They met about six yards away, just close enough for Zoë to overhear every part of their conversation.  

                "Where were you this mornin'?" Jack asked.  "I was real worried."

                River hung her head. "I'm sorry," she whimpered. 

                "River, ya don't gotta cry over it."

                River brought her hands to her face and wiped her tears away roughly with the edges of a too-large old gray wool sweater she'd been given by Nora Frye to fight off the planets cold. "I'm trying very hard," River told Jack.  "Please believe me."

                "It's sweet," Jack assured her.  "The way you're skittish. You're not trying to be anything special, and that makes what you are just . . . specialer, I guess."

                River laughed the laugh of a giddy teenaged girl. 

                As Zoë watched the two of them talk, she couldn't help but feel a little warm inside.  She had a soft spot for River, for some reason she herself didn't really understand.  It was, possibly, because River was so incredibly helpless.  She knew, even if Mal had never dared tell her, that that was the real reason the Tam's had been invited to stay on _Serenity_.  They desperately needed the type of protection Mal could provide.  They didn't know how to be outlaws, they didn't know how to run and hide, they didn't know how to survive.  Someone had to teach them, and Mal had always been such a good teacher.

                Zoë remembered when she first met him in a sort of ramshackle boot camp for the independent forces.  He was a sergeant because he'd survived the first major battle of the war, the battle on Tristram's Moon.  She was one of the hundreds of thousands that flocked to Hera to join the Independent troops after the news of the 'Slaughter on Tristram' got out.  Her oldest sister, Jana, had been a cook at a ranch on Tristram.  She's been forced into the Alliance troops under threat of imprisonment.  She wrote home saying it was better to be a foot solider getting paid than a prisoner being starved.  She wasn't bitter and she wasn't worried and he wasn't going to fight, she'd just go to battles and doge bullets.  She'd cost through the war and go back to her ranch after.  Jana was young and naive and counted among the 48 Alliance casualties of Tristram, when well over 300 Independents were killed.

                Zoë'd joined the war for her sake, for her memory.  She couldn't blame the independents, they were clearly trying to protect what was there's.  They hadn't forced anyone into the war, they hadn't thrown innocents onto the front line.  An Independent solider may have fired the bullet that went though Jana's neck and flooded her lungs so that she drowned in her own blood, but there was no question that the Alliance was the ones that killed her.  Zoë wanted revenge, pure and simple, the more Alliance blood on her hands, the better.

                Mal had taken one look at her and told her to go home.  She was too young, too scrawny.  She told him her story, with all the overheated passion of a 17-year-old girl.  At the end she had been crying, trembling with furry and grief.  He'd nodded, coldly it'd seemed to her at the time, and asked simply.  "If I say you can come along, you'll do everything I say, no questions asked?"  For the first time in her life Zoë told Mal "Yes sir." And the rest, as they say, was history.

                From that moment on she'd followed him to hell and back without qualm and, largely, without fear.  At the beginning she'd gone through the resenting phase, where she hated him because he was the authority.  After a while, about half way through the war, she entered the crush phase, where she loved him because he seemed perfect.  When they lost she suffered through the interdependent phase, where they stayed together because neither of them had anywhere else to go.  And finally he'd found _Serenity_ and she'd found Wash and they'd reached the comrade phase.  She knew him better than he knew himself at times, and visa versa.  She'd never been happier.  

                Zoë saw the whole thing starting over again with Mal and River.  He didn't really want her, he knew this wasn't a good place for her to be, but he also knew there was no place in the 'veres where she could go.  She didn't think the willowy girl would ever be a comrade in arms with the hardnosed captain, but there was no question that Mal had found himself another lost little girl to take care of.   

                There had, of course, been Kaylee in the mean time.  But she didn't need him half as much as Zoë herself had, or River would.  Maybe that's why Mal loved the girl so much, Zoë mused, she didn't need his strong hand guiding her away from darkness – that and no one could help but love Kaylee.  No one at all, Zoë thought as her attention turned from the adorable and bashful River to her somewhat less adorable but just as bashful brother, who was helping Wash carry the beautiful crib up the hatch.  Kaylee was following, a large basket full of blankets, bottles, dippers and swaddling cloths.  She was watching Simon walk with a seductress's smile on her face.  Zoë couldn't help but laugh.  

                "What you findin' so funny?" Mal asked, stepping up to his first mate, a large wooden crate full of jars of Strawberry Rhubarb jam.  

                "The two a them," Zoë said, nodding towards Simon and Kaylee.  "Looks like your hard policy against shipboard romances is gonna get broken."

                "Yeah," Mal said.  He didn't sound happy, really, but niter did he sound overly distraught.  "Sometimes I wonder why I even bother makin' rules."

                "Sometimes I wonder that too, sir," Zoë said, smiling just a little.  She had her poker face back on by the time Mal realized she'd all but insulted him.

                "Just 'cause you found true love on this boat, don't mean everybody will."

                "I know that sir," Zoë said.

                "Fact, odds are, ain't none of the rest of us that will."

                "I wouldn't know that sir," Zoë said.

                "What do you mean?" Mal asked.

                "Just that 'Something and Nothing produce each other; the difficult and easy compliment each other; the long and the short offset each other;  the high and the low incline towards one another; note and sound harmonize with each other; before and after follow each other.'" 

                 "Zoë, did I just hear you spurt out poetry?"

                "Philosophy, actually," the firstmate corrected smoothly.  "Lao Tzu, the _Tao Te Ching,"_

                "I didn't know you read philosophy," Mal sounded impressed.

                "Don't," Zoë said.  "It was part of the speech Wash gave me when he proposed."

                "He gave you a speech splattered with ancient philosophy?" Mal asked.

                "Yes, sir, he did."

                "And you still said yes."

                Zoë chuckled.  "I did, sir."

                "Didn't this whole thing start out about how Kaylee and Simon ain't you and Wash?"

                "Yes, sir, I do recall that."

                "Then why you bringin' up your proposal?  A topic, which, I'm sure, you'll remember I asked you never to bring up unless absolutely necessary."

                "I'm sorry sir," Zoë said dryly.   "But I look at them and I can't help but see a ying and a yang.  But that's just me."  With that she turned and started after Wash and Simon so she could show them exactly where she wanted to put the crib, leaving Mal to wonder why people have to fall in love.

*   *   *

                _Serenity seemed to shake more than usual as it lifted off of Newhope.  It was, Simon thought, as if the ship realized how much certain members of her crew didn't want to go, as if she was aware that Kaylee was standing in the cockpit, crying her eyes out, as the planet shrank until, eventually, it would become nothing more than another glittering dot in the sky and, after a time, not even that.  It was as if the ship knew that River was sitting on the floor in her room trying to draw a picture of her mother and father, of Reginald and Regina Comworth and even of Jack, so that she wouldn't ever forget what they looked like, and that she was crying too, even as she tried to draw.  It was as if __Serenity knew that Simon was holding a tin box in his hands he didn't want to open, but he had told himself he would as soon as they left the planet.  _

                Of course, Simon thought, _Serenity_ was only a ship.  It couldn't know anything.  It couldn't will anything.  It couldn't do any more or less than what Wash and Kaylee had it do.  

                And right now they were telling it to leave Newhope.

                "Sorry about the bumpy ride," Wash's voice said over the ship wide com.  "But leaving atmo we ran back into that storm hit us last night.  Still, all's good, and from here on out it should be a nice and smooth all the way to Greenleaf."

                The intercom crackled silent and Simon sat for a moment in the quiet, staring at his tin box.  When the hush began to get to him he drummed his fingers against the tin once.  The tinny rat-tat-tat sealed his resolve and, taking a deep breath, he unhooked the latch and opened the box.

                A small chalky white cloud of peppermint dust wafted out of the box first.   Simon breathed it in and remembered a lifetime ago when his godfather would open a box so similar to this.  He could remember the smile on his godfather's face as he urged Simon to take more than one, an offer the young doctor never accepted.  Then he'd turn the tin to River and Genie, both of whom had no qualms about taking a handful of the sweet candies.  And then there was his first week at Medacade, away from home and family and all things familiar.  In a pathetic, 'Getting to Know You' exorcise he'd been forced to participate in, he'd had to "Share something meaningful to you" with his whole class.  While he thought about reading them his award-winning paper on the similarities in plant tissue and mammal tissue in regards to grafting, or perhaps show them a clip of River performing as Alice in "Alice and Wonderland" at the Osiris Met.  But he'd decided just to pass around a bag of these types of peppermints after his room mate told him "Nobody likes a show off, people will sleep through ballet – not to mention you'll look like a pansy, but everybody likes candy."

                Simon suddenly wished he'd accepted his Godfather's offer for a peppermint that first night at his villa. As he sat on his small bed, he was struck by the fact he'd never be offered them again.

                Swallowing his sorrow, he pulled aside the wax paper that covered the small candies and looked into the box.  It was only half filed with white sugary balls; the other half was taken up by a small wooden box, rosewood with orangeish-yellow and dark red roses painted on the cover.  Simon stared at the box for a second, knowing that whatever gifts his godfather had always wanted to give him were sitting there.  Opening it would be a resignation of some sort of finality, the end of their relationship, the handful of dirt flung at the coffin.

                "You have to," River said softly, startling Simon so much that he almost dropped the tin and spilled the peppermints all over his floor.

                "River," Simon said, sounding more scolding than he meant to.  "I thought you were in your room."

                River glanced over her shoulder to her open door, as if to demonstrate how short the distance between their two rooms was, and then turned back to him, "I was."

                "Are you all right?" he asked, forcing himself to be the caring brother.  "Do you need anything?"

                "You have to open it," River said again, walking up and sitting next to him on the bed.    

"Do you want one," Simon asked, stretching the tin out towards her.

She leaned forward so that her face was only a few inches above the peppermints and took a deep breath. After a second she looked up at her brother and smiled. "That's enough," she told him. "I'm full."

Simon smiled back and pulled the tin back towards himself, moving to close it. 

"Don't," River said quickly, stopping Simon in his tracks. 

"What? Did you change you're mind."

"You didn't finish."

"Finish?" Simon asked, "River, I couldn't eat all these candies tonight, even if . . ."

"No," River said peevishly. "You know the candy is for desert. You didn't even start the meal."

"The meal?" Simon asked, bewildered. "Are you hungry?"

"Substance, Simon," River insisted. "It won't make you sick, it will make you stronger and you'll learn to like it. Like mushrooms."

"River, I still don't like mushrooms."

"But if Uncle Reggie gave them to you, you would eat them," River told her brother seriously, and, suddenly, Simon understood. 

"You want me to open the box."

River nodded.

"I don't know . . ." Simon started.

"It's bitter," River said moving to Simon's bed and easing herself down besides him so close their arms touched. "But that doesn't mean you can spit it out."

"If I open this pouch it will be like he died," Simon said. "I'll be admitting that I'll never see him again."

"You never will," River said flatly. "It's you're inheritance, Simon, what would Uncle Reggie say if he knew you spurned it?"

Simon nodded. His eyes threatened to tear up again. 

"You should be alone," River said, leaning over and planting a sweet sisterly kiss on her brother's cheek before pushing herself off the bed and walking towards the door.

"River," Simon said, blinking away his tears. "Why did you come in here?"

"To stop the stopping," his enigmatic sister answered. "To move the process."

"The process?" Simon asked, baffled. 

River threw him a smile over her shoulder, and then skipped away towards the cargo bay. Simon considered following her and insisting she clarify. But he knew that would be, most likely, an exercise in futility. Besides which, it would just be a distraction form what he really had to do: open that box. 

Simon took a deep breath and pulled it out of the tin, setting it next to him on the bed. Slowly, almost ceremoniously, he closed the peppermint tin and latched it, placing it carefully on the shelf at the head of his bed. Then, taking yet another deep breath and preparing himself for just about anything, he picked up the wooden box and opened it. The first thing he saw was not the golden pocket watch, nor delicate, finely embroidered silk pouch, but a note sealed with sealing wax and addressed in a very formal hand to _Dr. Simon Tam._

He picked up the letter, setting the box on his lap, carefully broke the seal so that, when he folded the letter, it would retain its shape, and read.

_Dear Simon,_

_The events of the last few days have been tragic to say the least. I wish to God that there was something I could do for you and River, but it has become clear to me that there is nothing. Even if I were to disown my position and my fortune so that I could accompany you on you're had quest, I would be nothing but a burden and a liability.  So, finally, I must let you go. Of course, by the time you read this you will, God willing, be gone. You don't know how hard it is for me to write that I hope never to see you again, because that is the last thing in the universe I hope for us. But, for your safety and mine, I do hope that I'll never see you again. I hope you and River find a way to fade into the darkness of space and the people perusing you never find you. I hope the crew of you're little ship, Malcolm Reynolds and Inara and Kaylee, and others, I'm sure, can provide you a light to keep the darkness that protects you from seeping into you. In short, I wish you all happiness, just not happiness here, with me. You are young and resilient; I know you will find it._

_In this box I've given you two things. I would like to give you more, naturally, but time and circumstances limit my generosity. The watch had been in my family for generation upon generation, since Earth-that-was.  I suppose I should have given it to Genie, but she'll get other things.  I don't want you to forget where you come from, Simon.  I don't want you to forget me or your parents, or disparage your upbringing.  I know right now it seems to have failed you, we seem to have failed you, but you must remember that the strength which is propelling you forward to successfully conquer with courage and integrity challenges you'd never imagined, and the strength that is holding up River and keeping her from madness and despair.  That strength is the strength you learned from us, me, your parent, and your schools in Osiris. The watch is to remind you to look backwards, on us who love you, no matter how impotent that love may seem, and being grateful._

_                The other gift in the box, which if I know you, you have not even notice yet, is a ring.  It's new, comparatively, and it is for looking forward.  I gave it to my wife when I proposed and she wore it until the day she died.  My daughter, Genie's mother, Kristina, who you probably don't even remember, wore it after that, until the day she died.  I do not blame the ring for either of their deaths, so don't take it as a bad omen.  Again, I probably should have saved it for Genie, but she'll have so much and you'll have so little, besides, what I'm about to say is very important and I don't know how, besides giving you a woman's ring, I would be able to breach the subject.  Some day, Simon, possibly someday soon, possibly some day years from now, after I'm long dead and buried, you are going to realize that you do not have to carry the burden alone.  Someday there will be a woman who will gladly help you, and who, when you look into her eyes, will make you forget that you have such a heavy burden to carry.  When you recognize that woman (wither it be Kaylee or some other, I do adore your friend, but I don't know what life plans for you and I would not think to speculate at such a precarious stage) I want you to give her this ring.  I know you will make the right choice, some day, in the future.  This ring was given to you so that you may look to the future and have hope._

_                I want you to be happy Simon, and safe and _wu bo_ and all other good things that could happen to a man.  You are more deserving of them than any man I've ever known, or truthfully, have known of, but, I'm afraid, you're path to these simple blessings will be long and hard.  You will never be far from my toughs, and always in my prayers.  There is so much I want to tell you, but needs be this letter is brief.  _

_Your devoted Godfather_

_Reginald Comworth._

                Simon, very carefully, folded up the letter.  His throat was constricted and he could feel his nose running.  His eyes were scratchy and dry, as if they wanted to cry but had run out of tears.  He was glad River had left and he was alone in the room.

                He took a deep, sniffly, breath as he replaced the letter and pulled out the golden pocket watch.  He had admired it as a child with the sort of distant aw people admire jewels in a museum, without the hope of ever actually owning it, or anything half so grand.  There was an engraved picture of a man and a well breed dog on the front of the watch, and on the back an etching of a fox, running away from the dog, and the man on a hoarse in the distant background.  Simon had always liked the fox.  He had, at age seven, when his Godfather had explained the scene to him and the tradition of the fox hunt and what the dogs and horses had to do with it, and why it hadn't been done for hundreds of years, insisted that this particular fox had gotten away. The hunter had gone home empty handed and the dog, who displayed vicious teeth in the second engraving, had gone to bed without any supper.  Simon smiled sadly at the irony, he wondered if his godfather had thought of that story as he packed the box, or if it was just a coincidence. 

                When he opened the watch up there were a few words finely etched on the inside of the cover, opposite the watch.  "_For my dearest LJC I'll always love you NLC_."  Simon wondered who LJC and NLC were, and on what occasion NLC had given LJC the watch.  He wished he could ask his godfather. 

                Simon carefully shut the watch, which ticked clearly and precisely every second, and put it back in the small box.  Next he took out the embroidered pouch, which was a very dark purple with a golden dragon on it, and pulled out the ring.  

                It was more or less a simple gold band, but instead of a stone there appeared to be a simple knot tied in the gold string. It was simple and beautiful and elegant and would look beautiful on any woman's hand.  Simon smiled as he considered the gift which, in a sense, wasn't really for him.  He hadn't, despite his few tussles with Kaylee, really thought about the possibility of a girlfriend, or a wife.  In part because of his tussles with Kaylee, he wanted one deeply.  He wanted someone who could force him out of his morose shell  and would laugh at his jokes, even if they were poorly told or sit and listen to him talk like a doctor and at least pretend to understand and be interested, someone who wouldn't think he was showing off or being pretentious, just being himself.  He wanted someone to come up to him and squeeze his hands after a surgery and tell him that he'd done well, he wanted someone to run her fingers through his hair and snuggle up to him on cold nights.  He wanted someone to love him for who he was now, the fugitive and criminal, and not hold him on a pedestal or see him as he had been.  And, when he was sure he'd found that some one, he was so glad that he had something he could give her back.  

                "Time never stops," River's voice said, again softly from his doorway.

                "Where'd you run off to?" Simon asked.

                "It's time for lunch," River informed her brother.  "I should get you."

                "Can I assume, from the more or less delicious smells wafting down from the kitchen, that you're speaking literally?" Simon asked.

                River laughed.  "Where the mushrooms that bad?"

                "No," Simon said with a sigh, putting everything back in his box and closing it.  He considered putting it on the shelf with his other nick-nacks, but decided against it.  Instead he got of the bed and knelt down, pulling his suit case out.  "Go on," he told River, "I'll be there in a minuet."

                "Why are you hiding it?" River ask.  "That's the first place a thief would look."

                "Where do you think I should put it?" Simon asked, turning to his sister.

                River looked at him curiously, her mind working quickly, and then stepped forward and took the box from him.  Simon didn't stop her.  She looked around the room, clearly considering this the only appropriate place to keep such a valuable thing, and finally pulled up the matrices to his bed, revealing, not surprisingly, a row of nooks and crevices perfect for hiding small boxes and other valuable things.  

                "Right by your heart," she said, placing the box in a middle crevice, approximately under his chest, when he would lie on the bed.

                "Your bed has this too?" Simon asked.

                River nodded.

                "You should hide your rings," he told her, reaching to the wall and pulling a nick-nack pot off his shelf so she could put her ring of gold and jewels as well as her ring of plain wood in it.   "You don't want to lose them."

                River smiled up at him, "Lost enough."

                "Yeah," he said, watching her carefully put the two bands in the pot.  

                The walked over to River's room and placed the small pot in her bed smuggling nooks.  She put them further up, closer to her head, so she could dream about them.

                "Come on, _Mei__ mei," Simon said, running his hand down his sister's soft hair as he turned and started walking towards the kitchen.  "They're probably waiting for us."  _

He didn't even get to the stairs when her voice, colored ever so slightly with fear stopped him, "Simon."

"What?" he asked, turning around.

_"When all that was comes to an end_

_And you seem lost in darkest night,_

_The stars see fit your wounds to mend,_

_Your hurts to heal, your wrongs to right.___

_Good grace and mercy will not rend_

_From your heart the hope of light_

_To blind the pain and shine again_

_Upon the path of your long flight.___

_Hearth and home are out of view_

_And every days calamity,_

_Yet love, despite the darkness true,_

_Blooms even in uncertainty:_

_Cold space made warmer by the hue_

_Of flowers on Serenity."___

She told him, as he stood, one hand on the stair rail, frozen and transfixed.   

                "River," he said after a second, stepping away from the stairs and towards her.  "I think that was the most beautiful poem I've ever heard."

                She smiled her sheepish little sister smile, his favorite smile in all the 'verse.  "It's you."

                "You wrote it for me?"

                "No," River said.  "It is you.  Don't forget."  With that she started walking forward, and, as she passed him, said.  "I'll tell them we can start without you."

                Simon shook his head and exhaled sharply, pivoting to follow his sister.  

That afternoon at lunch, Simon couldn't help but wonder what Kaylee's hands would look like if she ever wore a ring.  

To Be continued . . . 


	27. Chapter 26

Chapter 26: In which the ending isn't happy

Not a lot scared Zoë. She'd gone through fistfights, firefights, barfights and knockdown, drag-out fights with Wash and she'd survived it all relatively unscathed. She felt she could survive just about anything and she felt that she could keep just about anyone alive, so long as they were with her. These weren't conscious thoughts, naturally. She didn't sit in the common area for hours at a time and wonder at her ability to not-die, but it was part of her psyche and identity, which is why the blood scared her so much.

She didn't tell Wash for two reasons. One, if the blood was nothing, she didn't want to worry him and two, she didn't want to entertain the possibility that the blood was something serious, and worth worrying him over. Instead she hurried to the Infirmary, as casually as her racing heart would let her, with a mind to demand an emergency appointment with the local doctor. Unfortunately, when she reached the infirmary, the door was opened, the lights were on but the room itself was totally empty.

"Looking for Simon?" Inara asked. 

Zoë started, she hadn't noticed the companion, who was curled up in the common area, reading a small book. She looked comfortable but oddly out of place. 

"Ah, yeah," Zoë said, trying to make her voice sound less anxious. "Know where he is?"

"He should be up in my shuttle with Kaylee," Inara said nodding towards the cargo bay without looking up from her book. "She found an old flick on the cortex she wanted to show him. River might be up there too."

"Thanks," Zoë said, forcing herself to smile at the companion, who was so engrossed in her small volume that she didn't notice one way or the other. 

The firstmate forced herself not to run through the cargo bay and bound up the stairs. She walked across the catwalk with quick but relatively steady strides and forced herself to smile as she poked her head into the doorway of the companion's shuttle. It was dark, with the exception of the muted light streaming in from the cargo bay and the dim white light radiating from the cortex screen. River was sitting on the floor, apparently engrossed in whatever they were watching. Simon and Kaylee were sitting on the companion's couch, his arms warped around her shoulders and her left hand playing absentmindedly with the inside hem of his pant leg.

"Simon?" River asked without turning her face away from the screen where a pretty girl about River's age was singing passionately.

"Yes?" 

"Rainbows are only optical illusions. They don't exist."

"I know." 

"Can you braid my hair like hers?"

"Ya think it's pretty?" Kaylee asked, shifting forward a little so she could see River better.

River nodded. 

"After the movie I could do you're hair like that," the mechanic offered. "Would you like that?"

River nodded again, nobody but Zoë saw how her eyes twinkled at the prospect. 

Zoë felt a little guilty interrupting, but she was bleeding and she wouldn't be able to rest until she found out why. "Hey," she called, once the song was done. "Doc."

"Zoë?" Simon said, squinting as he leaned forward to try and see her better. 

"I'd, ah, I'd kind of like to see you."

His contented expression quickly turned to one of concern. "Are you—" he started. 

"It's about the baby," River said abruptly, turning from the screen to look at Zoë. Her large brown eyes, which were filled with excitement a second ago at the prospect of having her hair braided into pigtails, suddenly seemed to hold the deepest sorrows and sympathies. As much as Zoë liked the girl, she was very creeped out by the change and refocused her attentions of the doctor. 

"Is it about the baby?" he asked very seriously as he moved to push himself of the low couch. 

"Kind of," Zoë said uncomfortably. 

"Do you want to go to the infirmary?" Simon asked as he walked up to her his curiosity had been replaced by an appropriate amount doctorly concern. Zoë wasn't sure if she liked that attitude better, or worse.

"Well, yeah," the firstmate nodded, eyeing the two girls watching them instead of the movie. 

"Right," Simon nodded back. Turning quickly to Kaylee and River, he said. "Zoë . . ."

"We can upload it later," Kaylee said, shooing the young man away. "Come on with me, River, we'll go ta my room and play with your hair."

* * *

Two hours later, River's hair was braided in twin pigtails and she was hovering in front of the intermarry, despite Kaylee's continual insistence that they should go do something else. 

"Come sit here, River," the mechanic suggested, patting the spot on the couch next to her. "We could play cards. You ever played Egyptian Rat Race?"

River shook her head, without glancing at her friend.

"I could teach you," Kaylee offered.

"Shhhh," River hushed. She was standing just to the left of the door. She couldn't be seen by anyone in the infirmary directly, but she heard everything that Simon and Zoë said, and she could see them move in the dim reflections off the windows.

"It's natural," Simon explained, although he sounded more like he was apologizing. "Approximately one in three pregnancies end in miscarriage, most of the time before the woman even knows she's pregnant."

"I can't believe it," Zoë choked. 

"I'm sorry," Simon said. There was nothing else he could say.

"But she'll be ok, won't she?" Wash asked, holding his wife's hand in one of his while he stroked her arm with the other. He was doing his best to be the supportive husband but she didn't seem to notice.

"Yes," Simon nodded. "Like I said, it's natural. She just . . . this wasn't the time."

"Did it have to do with the _la shi_ birth control pills?" Zoë asked, her eyes focused on Wash's hand holding hers.

"I, ah," the doctor stammered, scratching his head. "I don't know, it's possible."

"Did I work to hard?" Zoë continued, "Should I have rested more?"

"I don't think . . ."

"Did I eat something wrong? That fish? Or too many sweets?"

"That really shouldn't . . ."

"Could it be that I didn't really want it?" the firstmate asked, finally looking towards Simon. "Did it die 'cause I didn't want it?"

"No," Simon said categorically, shaking his head. "No."

"If ya want a baby we can try again," Wash said, trying so hard to be there for her. "Be a little more careful next time."

"No," Zoë said. Her voice sounded shaky, totally unlike her. "This whole thing it . . ."

"Sweetie," Wash implored. "It wasn't meant to be. You're strong, stronger than . . ."

"Shut it Wash," Zoë snapped so viciously that her husband took a shocked step back, although he didn't let go of her hand. 

"Zoë," Simon said compassionately. "I understand you're upset."

"No," Zoë said, shoving herself off the examination chair, pulling her arm away from Wash and pushing past the doctor. "You don't understand! You can't!"

"I understand," River said quickly, as the firstmate rushed past her through the commons room, heading for the cargo bay.

"_Ruo di yu_ you understand," Zoë said, halting at the stairs and turning to look at River viciously. "We are not your family, _feng shao nu. _This baby, it was never yours."

"Honey," Wash said, practically tripping over River as he tried to catch up with his upset wife. "Maybe we should . . ."

"Get the hell away from the _gan rao cha shou ren qun_?" Zoë asked. There were tears in her eyes, a sight no one present, with the exception of Wash had ever seen, or had ever thought they might see. "I think maybe," she finished, nodding her head as she turned and barreled into the cargo bay. 

They all stood, shocked, for a moment, at her uncharacteristic display of emotion. River was the first to react; she sucked in a breath that was clearly a precursor to a long cry, pivoted and ran to her room. "River," Simon said, reaching out as she ran by him. She batted his hand away and a second latter the sound of a small sliding door being violently banged shut seemed to echo through the quiet room. 

"Sorry about Zoë," Wash finally said, chiefly addressing Simon but glancing over to Kaylee who'd watched the whole thing in silence. "She's . . ."

"It's understandable," Simon nodded. "Maybe you should . . ." he nodded towards the cargo bay, implying the husband should follow the wife and offer loving, husbandly support.

Wash laughed softly and sadly. "Naw, give her a moment ta calm down. If I try to talk to her now she's liable to blow off my head."

"What cha gonna do?" Kaylee asked softly. 

Wash tried to smile at the young mechanic, but his jaw was trembling a little and his eyes were threatening to shed tears. "Go tell Mal," he said with a thin voice. "Maybe Book, Jayne and Inara, if I see them. I don't . . . don't think Zoë could do that and . . . and somebody should tell him."

"If you need to be with Zoë," Simon offered, "Or be alone or . . . I could tell the captain."

Wash cleared his throat. "No," he said with determination. "I am . . . was . . . would have been the father. This is something I need to do."

Simon nodded and stepped aside, as if to clear a path. Wash offered the young doctor one last sad smile and nod before walking past him and heading, heavy footed and heavy hearted, up to the kitchen to look for Mal.

Simon and Kaylee stayed still, waiting until they could no longer hear Wash's footsteps as a sort of somber sign of respect. Finally, Simon sighed and turned to look at Kaylee, who'd pulled her legs up on the couch and was hugging them as tears trailed down her cheeks. 

"Baby's dead, huh?" She asked as the doctor walked over to slouch down besides her.

"Yeah," Simon said, stretching his arm around her as she let go of her legs and leaned into him.

"What happened?"

"I don't know," Simon confessed. "Sometimes these things just happen."

"I guess," Kaylee sighed, tenaciously trying to find the bright side. "I mean, ain't like we lost anything we had."

"I guess not."

There was a lull in their conversation so that the only sound was that of River in her room sobbing.

"You gonna go comfort her?" Kaylee asked after a minute.

Simon sucked in a deep breath before he answered, "In a while, I think."

"Why a while?"

"She's grieving," Simon explained. "She loved that baby and . . . . She needs some time alone to just be sad."

"Well," Kaylee said, sniffling, "I'm glad that I can be sad with you."

"Yeah," Simon answered very softly, rolling his head so that he was talking into her hair, inches away from her ear. "Me too."

* * *

"Mal," Wash said. There was distinctly humorless tone in the pilot's voice. Mal swiveled the chair around so he could see his pilot standing in the door that lead to the crew's quarters and, beyond that, the kitchen. Less than a minute ago, through that same doorway, Mal had seen Zoë run from the stairs to her room. He'd called out, asking her 'where's the fire' and she hadn't answered, hadn't even glanced at him. Now Wash was there, looking apologetic and mournful. Mal didn't have to be a genius to figure out what had happened.

"Yeah, Wash?" he said, trying to make his voice sound kind. He couldn't quite do it. If it had been Kaylee or River, maybe Simon, Zoë even, but not for his goof-off pilot. 

"I just wanted ta tell you the baby," his voice caught in his throat, he cleared it, took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Mal waited silently. "Zoë, she had a miscarriage so there . . . there isn't a baby."

"I see," was all Mal could think to say. 

Wash nodded, the muscles in his jaw twitching. "Just, you know, thought someone should tell you."

Mal nodded back. He thought, maybe, he should say he was sorry. Instead he asked, "You gonna tell everybody, or you want me to do it?"

"I, ah," Wash stuttered. The poor man clearly wanted to follow his wife's example: run into his room, slam the door shut and bawl his eyes out, maybe curse a little. "I think I should probably tell them." 

A new respect for Wash was suddenly kindled in Mal. The pilot still wasn't good enough for Zoë, he wasn't strong enough or brave enough or noble enough, not by half. Zoë disserved the most stunning example of manhood the universe had ever produced, and she'd settled for this pathetic buffoon. But he loved her, there was no question on that account. And he loved that baby that hadn't even ever really been because it was hers, Mal could see it in his eyes. And he was going to do the manly thing and accept his duties, even if they were difficult. He was going to protect Zoë, even if she were clearly the stronger of the two and would never need his protection. 

But this new respect didn't make its way into what Mal said, or even his tone of voice. "Good," he said, nodding again before swiveling his chair again, turning his back to Wash so he could examine _Serenity's_ read outs, which both men knew didn't really need to be examined.

"Yeah," Wash said, bringing a sort of closure to the conversation. Mal could here the pilot turn and shuffle out so he could seek out Serenity's varied occupants and say over and over again that there wasn't gonna be a baby, that all the hope and excitement had been for naught. 

Wash wasn't a lot of things, Mal thought as he fiddled with dials that didn't need to be fiddled with. He wasn't good enough, that was for damn sure, but he was a decent man, and he loved Zoë. He hoped that Zoë could take some comfort in the fact that, even if she didn't have that baby she didn't really want, she still had the husband that she really did.

* * *

"River," Simon said, carefully opening her door. "It's time for supper."

"I'm not going," River said, although it was barely understandable with her head buried in a pillow. 

"River, please," Simon pleaded, stepping in tentatively and putting his hand on her delicate shoulder. "You'll feel better if you eat."

"Go away!" River yelled. "She knows what she said and that means you!"

"Well," Simon said sadly, backing out of her room as he'd done six times in the last four hours. She wouldn't be comforted and Simon didn't know what to do. "I'll make a plate out for you, okay?"

"Leave," River whimpered. "And close the door."

"All right, _mei mei_," Simon sighed, "I'll be back soon."

The door slid shut, per her instructions, and River immediately wished she hadn't sent Simon away. She heard Zoë's words over and over again telling her 'We are not your family' she would have given anything for someone to come up and tell her that she had a family, that there were people who loved her and that she would never be alone, despite how lonely she felt right now. But Simon didn't know that's what she needed, so he kept telling her lies about how everything would be all right. It wouldn't be all right – it could never be all right. She was an orphan, a crippled orphan who was too wicked to save and too wild to evoke pity. She'd thought, because Simon was so good, maybe she could get better, become presentable. And Mal was so good and Jack was so good that she started to think she might be like a real person, not like an animal on the street. But Zoë's words, spoken so passionately made everything clear. She was a crazy girl and she had no family. 

It wasn't right, River thought, that the innocent unborn baby had died while she lived. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair and River hated herself for being the beneficiary of such injustice.

There was a gentle rapping on her thin door. River's response was to hold her breath and make as little noise as she could. If the person thought she was asleep or dead they would go away, leaving her free to be lonely and miserable.

But her plan didn't work. The door slid open and Zoë's voice clearly said, "I know you're in here, River, I could hear you cryin'."

"I'm sorry," River said, not looking at Zoë as she scampered to the corner farthest away from the door, taking her pillow with her so she could continue to bury her head in it.

Zoë laughed, the dry laugh of someone who's sad, and then took a sharp breath. "That's what I wanted to say."

"The baby shouldn't have died," River said. "It's all mixed up."

"Won't argue with that," Zoë said, lowering herself on the foot of River's bed. 

"I think God made a mistake," River said, lowering the pillow so that it was just covering her mouth, not her bloodshot eyes.

"Wash told me it wasn't meant to be," Zoë confided in the young girl. "He told me that when I first heard, when I wasn't thinking, wasn't listening. But then, when he came ta me after telling the whole crew, he said it again. Said this wasn't our time, which don't mean we'll never have a time. He said when were ready it'll happen." 

Zoë wasn't looking at River, she was leaning forward, elbows on her knees, examining her hands folded in front of her. "And, after I calmed down, I realized he was right. I wasn't ready, this whole thing, made me act like a baby myself." She turned to look at River, who quickly buried her head back in the softness of her pillow so she didn't see the firstmates sad but amused smile.

"I was generous, when I had something I didn't want," she told River as she pushed herself up and walked over to where the young girl was huddled. "I said it was the ship's baby, because I didn't want one. But then, when it was gone, I got greedy." She reached out, pulling River's pillow down and away from her face, "And I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" River asked, blinking hard as tears rolled down her cheek.

"You loved that baby," Zoë said. "Much as it hurts me ta say this, you probably loved it more than me. I was wrong to yell at you."

"You were telling the truth," River said. "I am _feng_."

"Maybe," Zoë said graciously. "That don't give me the right to be mean. You forgive me?"

River didn't know what to say, but she did know she would have done just about anything Zoë would ask of her. She nodded and tried hard to swallow the lump in her throat.

"Good," Zoë said, taking a deep breath and smiling almost naturally. "'Cause we are a family, you know. As much a family as any I've seen, and better than most."

"Me too?" River asked, almost afraid of the answer. 

"Yeah," Zoë smiled. "You too."

River felt herself smile; she couldn't help it, and for some reason that seemed to bring a new battery of tears. 

"That's all I really came to say," Zoë said as she stood. "Everyone else is upstairs, eating and . . . and I needed to tell you that."

River didn't know what to say, she was just overwhelmed with the joy at the thought she was part of the family, that she wasn't an orphan. She couldn't wait to tell Simon. 

"Plus," Zoë continued, forcing herself ahead as she walked over to the foot of River's bed where she'd been sitting. "I thought I ought to give you this."

River looked up and even leaned forward, so that she was on her hands and knees instead of a tightly curled ball.

In her hand, Zoë held the doll River had sewn with Joanne. River had been so preoccupied with her guilt and grief she hadn't noticed Zoë bringing it in. 

"Wash and I started going through the baby stuff," Zoë said, looking at the doll. "Some of it we can use, some of it we can sell, and some of it, Wash's crib, for example, we're keeping 'cause it don't hurt to be prepared."

"It hurts to remember," River ventured.

"Yeah, well," Zoë said, lowering the doll and turning her gaze to River. "It hurts not to remember too."

There was a moment of silence while both women were remembering things that hurt.

"But," Zoë finally said. "You made this for the baby, I think you ought'a keep it. So you can remember."

"You should keep it," River said, pushing herself up off the floor rather awkwardly as her dress kept tripping her up. "I gave it to the baby when it was in you. Yours."

"No, River," Zoë said. "I've thought about this," she extended the doll out to the young girl. "I got other things to remind me, you don't."

Carefully, River took the doll out of the firstmate's hand. She stared at the place were there would have been a face, if she'd known how to make one. Now she was glad she hadn't. She looked up at Zoë and smiled, "My baby."

Zoë laughed, "Whatever you need, sweetie."

With that she turned around and started to leave the room. She was all the way to the stairway when River suddenly realized she had forgotten a big part of being a person, especially if she was going to be a person in a family. She hurried to her door and leaned out, calling after Zoë, "Thank you!"

The older woman turned and smiled again. "You're welcome," she said before continuing on past the infirmary and up to the cargo bay. Zoë wasn't going to eat tonight, River realized. She was going to give herself one night where she could cry herself to sleep and then, the next morning, move on. And so, that's what River decided to do. She closed her door, took off her dress and put on her nightgown. She turned off the lights and slipped under her covers, cradling the faceless doll and humming a lullaby she remembered from her earliest childhood. 

__

"Sleep my child and peace attend thee,  
All through the night  
Guardian angels God will send thee,  
All through the night  
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,  
Hill and dale in slumber sleeping  
I my loved ones' watch am keeping,  
All through the night

Angels watching, e'er around thee,  
All through the night  
Midnight slumber close surround thee,  
All through the night  
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,  
Hill and dale in slumber sleeping  
I my loved ones' watch am keeping,  
All through the night"

The End


	28. Epilog and Notes

EPILOG: 

__

Dear Governor Comworth, Sir,

I'm just writing to let you know what's going on out here far away from home, like you asked when we meet after that tour I took of your villa. I know you get lots of mail, and got lots of people you've gotta meet with and stuff you've gotta get done so I ain't gonna write you a long letter, just enough to let you know everything's all right. And it is.

We left Newhope without a hitch and are pretty much planet jumping right now. That's what we do, jump from planet to planet looking for work. It can be pretty dull sometimes, but the ship's doctor's been keeping me company – or I've been keeping company with him, however you want to see it. Either way time don't seem nearly so slow as it used to. Over all, I think he's been laughing a lot more than he was. I feel kinda bad saying all that happened on Newhope was, you know, good for him, but he's seeming more him than he's ever seemed before, if that makes any sense.

And Yao, the little girl what was there in your office with you and me and the doctor, you know. Well, she's doing as good as I've known her to do. A lot happened for her too, on Newhope, some of it might have made her a little better, I don't know. But she's smiling a lot, which is nice, and she ain't shot nor stabbed anyone, and that's nice too.

So that's what's what. We plan to land in about six days, so I hear, and maybe get a job and maybe something interesting, something worth writing about, will happen. But till then it's just nice and quiet days filled with talking and playing. And I guess that's all there is to say. Don't worry bout writing me back, I know you're busy.

Yours Truly

Kaywinnith Lee Frye

p.s. I ain't told anyone about these letters, though I almost let it slip a thousand times. I don't know if I should or not. I know the doc would want to tell you a few things but the captain might think it wasn't right, me talking to you so open. Got any advice?

My Dearest Miss Frye,

I was delighted with your last letter, and so soon too! I can see that you will be a delightful and dedicated correspondent, which brings me no end of pleasure. I am also glad that your life, and those of your shipmates, has returned to a normal and somewhat dull routine. I've lived long enough to know that routine is essential for a happy life. If your life is littered with adventures, you never have time to be content, only exhausted.

It is very encouraging to hear that you and the doctor are spending a good deal of time together, I suspect that it is good for both of you. He is a very caring boy, but he needs to be drawn out of his shell. I have a feeling that you might be just the girl to do it. I eagerly await any reports you care to send on this topic. Although I don't expect many, for we both know I am a stodgy old man.

As far as your concerns regarding whom to tell about our discourse, I give you permission to tell anyone you think appropriate. I met your captain but briefly, still, it seems to me that he would understand why we are conversing – but I submit to the vastness of your experience. As far as the doctor and little Yao are concerned, feel free to tell them, by all means. I would be glad of any message they would want to send.

All is well here. My granddaughter Genie is doing well. I recently informed her that I would not be sending her to the Core, as we previously discussed, which is an endless source of joy for her. She loves Newhope, more than I do, I think. I wonder why I ever thought that I should make her leave it. My houseguests, the Tams, have returned safely to their home on Osiris. I remember you took a special interest in them and they in you, so if anything of import happens in their lives I will be sure to tell you of it.

I look forward to our next correspondence. Rest assured that you and your shipmates are always in my prayers.

Sincerely Yours

Reginald Charles Comworth

Gov. Of the Allied Planet of Newhope

NOTES: The following is a sonnet that was written and mentioned but just never made it into the text. I don't really think anyone cares, but, damn it, I wrote a sonnet and I'm gonna publish it! Also, here are the Chinese translations in order of appearance. 

A sun does peak its shinning face

Over the slim horizon of our lives

With glorious golden tail it will trace

It's comely arch across our dreary skies;

And too a babe, illuminates this place,

Even as he for his soft mother cries.

Resplendent in all white linen and lace:

A bright new sun has found the strength to rise

Scarce can I wait until the babe does come,

One day soon mine eyes will catch the glorious sight

Anticipation beats on my heart like a drum

My hope in the infant longs to take flight

To whom loving lullabies I will softly hum

And lull him to sleep in the darkest night

_ke bo_ -- Mean

_mei mei_ -- little sister

_zou kai_ -- Get Lost!

_hao zi_ -- rat

_Du Cheng_ -- Capitol City

_gai si_ -- damn

_bao li_ -- violence

_lok chat_ -- dick

_bing_ -- sick

_huai hua_ -- malicious talk

_Shen di yu_ -- Holy hell

_Ma zi song xie sha zi_ -- curse me for an inattentive fool 

_Ben dan nu sheng mi huo gaun yu qin gai_ -- Imbecile schoolgirl perplexed about love

_fei gan xing hou_ -- flying fucking monkey

_shen tong_ -- child prodigy 

_Wo ai ni, xiong zhang_ -- I love you big brother

_Da dai_ -- greatly

_bao bei_ -- affectionate nick name (sweetheart or precious object or baby)

_Ce lve hong se_ -- Plan Red

C_hi dai mi lu er nu_ -- stupid lost children

_gan ao man yi_ -- fucking arrogant doctor

_Shui xing mei mei_ -- wake up little sister

_Dao xie cis han tian shi_ -- thank a charitable Angel

_xin gan_ -- darling, sweetheart

_bei ai_ -- confused, sorrowful

_xiao hai zi_ -- child

_wei le ji du_ -- for the sake of Christ

_nian di bu_ -- sticky plight

_Gan tian hua ban_ -- Fucking ceiling 

_Dai dai gan mei yong yi sheng_! -- Stupid fucking useless doctor

_zao gao_ -- messed up

_Yu tian bu yu yu yuan qi wei de di di qian yi sheng, you qi ni_ -- I am filled up with hatred of all doctors, especially you.

_la shi_ -- shit

_Qiong cangn fu zi wo_ -- heaven help me

_Zan yang fo tuo_ -- Praise Buddha 

_Xian, fou_ -- God, no.

_Nage, neige tai kao long_, -- that too narrow

_Bu zhe ban_ -- Not like this

_di yu_ -- hell

_Fan shi bei_ -- All things sorrowful

_Fei yi suo si hun luan, hun luan zhi gou ji mao_ --Unimaginably strange confusion of dogs and cats

_Shieh-shieh_ -- thank you!

_zou kai -- _get lost!

_diow kai dz_ -- Woman trying to catch a rich man

_Gai sz_ -- Damn it!

_Gan xie feng hou nai zi zhi zao hua_ -- Thank the plentiful breasts of fate

_Ci xiang_ -- Kindly older person

_di ji_ -- low class

_fay wu_ -- uesless person

_Mao niao_ -- cat urine

_Gei ji ren zhi fan shi gaung liang_ -- for the love of all things shiny

_dai dai gan mei yong yi sheng_ -- stupid fucking useless doctor

_Mei young yi sheng_ -- uesless doctor

_Fay hwah_ -- bull shit

_zai i-tsz_ -- do it again

_He deng ge e mo e meng_ -- Such a demon nightmare

_Gei ji ren zhi ren dao_ -- for the love of humanity

_shao nu_ -- little girl

_shao yang nu_ -- little adopted daughter

_Ting ju_ -- Stop

_Fah biow_ -- begin to work hard to accomplish something (often said of men chasing women)

_biao zi_ -- bitch

_yu way wen_ -- wrinkles around the eyes (lit. fish tail wrinkels)

_Kai wan shiau_ -- you're kidding!

_la shi_ -- shit

_Ruo di yu_ -- like hell

_feng shao nu_ -- crazy young girl

_gan rao cha shou ren qun_ -- interfering meddlesome crowed

_feng_ -- crazy (lit. sickness like the wind swirling in the mind)

_Yao_ -- youngest child


End file.
